


Danger in the Shadows

by AmberLS123



Series: The Adventures of Basil of Baker Street [3]
Category: The Great Mouse Detective (1986)
Genre: Aftermath of Torture, Aftermath of Violence, Attempted Murder, Blood and Injury, Case Fic, Gen, Gunshot Wounds, Kidnapping, Major Character Injury, Murder, Murder Mystery, Mystery, Psychological Torture, Stabbing, Torture, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-14
Updated: 2020-06-17
Packaged: 2021-03-03 01:26:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 20
Words: 59,032
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24176605
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AmberLS123/pseuds/AmberLS123
Summary: Basil of Baker Street's powers are tested to their limits in his most challenging case yet.
Series: The Adventures of Basil of Baker Street [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1743475
Comments: 17
Kudos: 14





	1. Reunion

**Author's Note:**

> This is probably the fic I'm most proud of. It took over 8 years to complete (2011-2019), so it was a very long journey. It takes place about 3 years after the events of the movie. I really wanted to write a fic that messed with Basil's mind and stretch him to his limit. There is a lot of violence due to that especially toward the end of the fic, so reader beware. Some of the earlier chapters I cringe at because I feel like I've improved in writing since then, and I've corrected grammar and spelling errors and maybe added a phrase here and there to make it sound better. But it remains mostly unchanged. Even though this story ended a lot differently than I had originally planned 8 years ago, I'm still happy with its conclusion and I'm eager to get to work on its sequel. I hope you enjoy it!

Dark storm clouds gathered on the horizon and thunder rumbled in the distance, announcing the arrival of yet another storm. The residents of London, humans and rodents alike, had been cooped up in their homes for the past three days due to the hazardous weather.

One of the many mice who suffered from cabin fever was Dr. David Q. Dawson, a resident of 221½ B Baker Street. He sat awaiting the arrival of his friend and colleague, Basil of Baker Street, the famous Great Mouse Detective. Basil was away working on a case, and Mrs. Judson, the landlady, was busy in the kitchen, so the doctor was alone in the sitting room. Reclining in the green armchair across from Basil's red one with his feet propped up on the footstool, he glanced at the clock and yawned for the hundredth time. Normally, he would have gone along with the detective. But since his old war wound had been giving him trouble these past few days, Basil insisted he take a well-deserved rest, so Dawson reluctantly obliged. Dawson had attempted to occupy his time by reading the newspaper, but it contained nothing of interest to him. He even tried to take a nap, but his thoughts kept wandering back to the case at hand. Basil had been working himself to death over it, and frankly, the doctor was concerned for his friend's health. However, whenever he brought it up, Basil would give his typical reply that he was perfectly fine.

Soon after the rain began again, Dawson looked up as he heard three taps on the front door. _Who could that be?_ the doctor thought as he got up stiffly to open the door. Thinking that the visitor must be a client, he began, "Hello, Basil isn't here at the moment, but-" He paused as he saw a middle-aged mouse and a young girl standing by his side, and his surprise soon turned to joy. "Mr. Flaversham!" Dawson exclaimed, shaking the mouse's hand warmly, "so wonderful to see you! And Miss Olivia! What a pleasant surprise."

"Hello, Dr. Dawson!" the girl said, hugging him tightly.

"Hello, my dear. Why, the little girl I remember is now a lovely young lady! Here, come in out of this dreary weather."

"Thank you, Doctor," said Flaversham as Dawson took their coats and hung them up to dry. "We've just arrived in London. Olivia was so eager to see you, I thought we'd visit for a moment. I do hope we're not intruding?"

"No, not at all," Dawson replied happily. "Basil isn't here at the moment, but he should be arriving shortly. How have you been?"

"Very well, thank you. It was nice to return to Scotland, but after a while, Olivia and I grew homesick for London. I've decided to reopen my toyshop."

"That's wonderful news!" Dawson exclaimed. "It's such a delight to have you back."

Moments later, they heard someone open the front door, and the three turned to see Basil of Baker Street standing on the threshold, dripping wet from the rain. Despite the scowl on his face, he was a rather comical sight. The detective was soaked from head to tail, and his deerstalker cap drooped down almost over his eyes. "Confound this dratted weather," he mumbled as he shrugged out of his soaked Inverness cape. As he tossed his hat and coat onto a suit of armor rather than the coat rack to dry, the breath was almost knocked out of him as Olivia ran and threw her arms around his waist. "Basil!" she squealed with joy.

Of course, Basil was very surprised to see the little girl. "Miss Flemmingshawl…I mean, Flanger…um…" he stammered.

"Flaversham!" she corrected.

"Whatever," Basil said rolling his eyes with a chuckle. "What are you doing here?"

Olivia giggled; she didn't think he would ever be able to pronounce her name correctly. "Daddy and I are back from Scotland and came to visit! I missed you."

Basil wasn't accustomed to such outward displays of affection, but the truth was he was just as delighted to see her as she was to see him and returned the hug with a smile. A few minutes later, they were all seated about the sitting room. Basil sat in his favorite red armchair, his long legs stretched out towards the fire, Dawson resumed his seat in the chair opposite him, and Flaversham and Olivia shared the sofa. Mrs. Judson brought in some tea and a plate of some of her delicious cheese crumpets, overjoyed as she was reunited with Olivia. It had been nearly three years since Basil had rescued the toymaker and his daughter from the clutches of his arch-nemesis, Professor Ratigan. After being away from each other for so long, they were happy to be amongst old friends again. 

The conversation soon turned to Basil's work. As a private consulting detective, he remained busy helping others, whether it be someone who came to him over a private matter or the police asking for his help when they came to a dead-end, which occurred more frequently than they would have cared to admit.

"Were you working on a case today?" Olivia asked Basil eagerly.

"Yes," the detective replied. "I was helping the police round up a gang who attempted to rob Harper's Jewelry store."

"But you were able to catch them," Olivia stated proudly.

"Indeed," said Basil with a smile, "although it took a little longer than I imagined. The ringleader proved to be a rather cunning adversary. But if Inspector Grayson had taken my advice to begin with, we would have caught him sooner."

"It was Simmons?" Dawson asked curiously.

"Of course it was Simmons! There was never a doubt in my mind from the beginning." Basil puffed away on his pipe, blowing rings of smoke into the air.

"You must be busy these days," Flaversham remarked. "Your fame has spread even to Scotland. Olivia and I both have enjoyed reading Dr. Dawson's account of your cases."

"I'd be lost without my chronicler," replied Basil, smiling at Dawson. "But things have actually been rather quiet as of late. There are always petty thefts and such, but organized crime has declined since…Ratigan's death." He hesitated at the mention of his deceased enemy. Although it had been a while since the incident, it was still a bit of a sensitive topic to speak of his adversary's death. Basil had foiled Ratigan's plans to take over the kingdom, and things came to a head at the top of Big Ben, where Ratigan's hatred for Basil drove him mad, transforming him into a raging monster. Basil had sustained several injuries from the rat's claws in the ensuing fight and had barely escaped with his life before Ratigan lost his footing as the clock tolled loudly and he fell to the streets below.

Dawson cleared his throat and hurriedly attempted to change the subject. "Well, now that things have quieted down, at least you can rest. You shouldn't work yourself so hard," he cautioned.

"I have to work hard or else I'll go insane with boredom!" Basil retorted. However, he seemed to hesitate as if debating whether to continue. "The truth is, I'm afraid to let my guard down. And I do have reason to be extra cautious. I believe that I've been watched these past few weeks."

"What do you mean?" Dawson asked.

"You know by now how I'm always aware of my surroundings." Dawson nodded, and Basil continued. "Do you recall the recent forgery case in France? During our investigation, I noticed a certain mouse following us on three different occasions. I didn't say anything because he never approached and didn't appear to be a menace. But I noticed him standing on the corner of Baker Street on Monday as if watching me."

"You mean he followed you here to London?" Flaversham asked concernedly.

Basil shrugged. "It appears that way. I'm certain it's the same mouse. I haven't seen him up close, but a large scar extends across the right side of his face, making it easy to identify him."

"Perhaps there's no need to be too concerned," Dawson said hopefully. "If he were dangerous, I think he would have approached by now."

"There are several explanations," Basil said as he relit his pipe, "but I have no data, and it is a capital mistake to theorize before one has all the facts."

"It biases your judgment," Olivia spoke up. "Right Basil?"

"Exactly-" Basil's pipe nearly fell from his mouth as he stared at the girl. "Wait, what?"

"If you don't have enough evidence, you begin to make up facts to fit your theories, instead of theories to fit the facts. You said it yourself," she said hastily, blushing as everyone stared at her. "During one of your cases, the one about the emerald ring. Remember?"

"Why, yes. Yes, I suppose I did." Basil shook his head incredibly. "And you remembered that?"

"Of course! I learn a lot from reading Dr. Dawson's stories about you. You also say, 'When you have eliminated the impossible, whatever remains, however improbable, must be the truth.' "

Basil chuckled, impressed by the girl's intelligence. "Miss Flamberham, I'm flattered that you've taken such an interest in my methods."

"Flaversham," Olivia corrected again, although her eyes sparkled with admiration for her role model. "I want to be a great detective just like you someday."

"Well, that won't be a difficult task for such a bright young lady as yourself, Miss Olivia," Dawson replied. "Just think, we may be in the presence of Scotland Yard's first female Inspector. Eh, Basil?"

"Perhaps," the great detective replied with a wink at Olivia, causing the little girl to giggle happily.


	2. A New Threat

The next day, Basil lounged in his favorite red armchair, and soft notes drifted from his violin throughout the house. As he scraped away at the instrument, his thoughts began to wander. He practically had the house to himself. Mrs. Judson was away visiting relatives, and Dawson was still away checking up on one of his patients. Basil smiled to himself. Good old Dawson. Always concerned about the wellbeing of others. And thinking of the Flavershams returning to London made his smile widen. He was happy that the little family was doing well. After all they had been through, they deserved it.

The Flaversham case had been the highlight of Basil's career. After years of trying to capture Ratigan and put an end to his criminal regime, Basil had finally defeated the Napoleon of Crime. As a result of spoiling the Professor's plans to eliminate the Queen and take over the kingdom as well as freeing Flaversham and saving little Olivia's life, Basil's reputation had increased dramatically. In the beginning, people had looked to Basil often as a last resort because he could clear up almost any mystery even when the police had abandoned it as hopeless. Now they often came to him even before going to the police, especially since Dawson had begun publishing accounts of his cases. Scotland Yard itself often requested his assistance, and even Inspector Grayson, who at first had been rather skeptical of Basil's powers of deduction, often came to the great detective for his advice.

But to Basil, the best things that had come out of the Flaversham case were the lifelong friends he had made. He had always been a sort of social misfit. Certainly, throughout his short career, he had helped countless mice with whatever problems they brought to him, but he had never developed a close relationship with any of them. They were only clients. However, the same could not be said of Dawson, nor the Flavershams.

Ever since she had shown up on his doorstep, little Olivia had grown on him. Basil was still in awe at what Olivia had said the day before. Here she was, a young girl of only about twelve years old, and she had more sense than most of the force of Scotland Yard. Since he'd saved her life along with Flaversham's, her father had felt very grateful to Basil, and they also became friends.

And Basil didn't know what he would do if it weren't for Dawson. He was a bit muddleheaded at times, and Basil had often grown annoyed with him, but he was always helpful, willing to do whatever Basil asked, even if it involved risking his own life. An enormous part of Basil's fame came from Dawson publishing accounts of his cases. Although Basil sometimes remarked that he embellished them too much and did not focus on the more important facts of the actual case, he greatly appreciated Dawson's support and friendship.

As Basil reflected while continuing playing the violin, Dawson was strolling down Baker Street. The doctor had established his own medical practice just down the street, so the walk was not far. It had been a long day. Dawson had more appointments than usual, and it was almost dark when he had finally locked up. As he was walking, he pulled out his pocket watch to check the time. Looking down, Dawson wasn't watching where he was going, and he accidentally bumped into a mouse standing by a streetlamp. But before Dawson could apologize, the mouse muttered, "Excusez moi, monsieur." And, keeping his head bowed, he hastily walked across the street. Of course, the doctor didn't think much of the incident and continued on his way.

However, as he drew closer to home, Dawson glanced across the street and noticed that same mouse walking in the same direction as he. He hadn't gotten a good look at him before; but now, with a start, Dawson noticed the large scar on the right side of the mouse's face. It extended from the base of his ear across his cheek and down to his chin and had turned the corner of his mouth up, making it appear as if he was always snarling. Remembering what Basil had said yesterday, Dawson quickened his steps, not wanting to confront this unsavory character alone.

Minutes later, Dawson arrived at 221 ½ B Baker Street and removed the key from his pocket. As he unlocked the door, he glanced behind him and saw the mouse loitering across the street, leaning against the side of the opposite house and looking down at the ground with his hands buried in his coat pockets trying to appear inconspicuous. Dawson finally got the door open and let out the breath that he hadn't realized he'd been holding, thankful that he was finally home. 

Still lounging in his chair by the fire, Basil's eyes were closed as he continued playing his violin. "Basil?" Dawson asked as he removed his coat.

"Mm?"

"That fellow you mentioned yesterday, the one you thought was following you…what did you say he looks like?"

Basil opened his eyes and looked at Dawson questionably. "I didn't get a close at him, but he's thin, about the same height as I am, and has a large scar on the right side of his face."

"From his ear to his chin?"

Basil sat up and leaned forward eagerly. "You've seen him too?" he asked excitedly.

"I believe so," Dawson replied. "I bumped into him as I was walking, and now he's lurking about the house across the street."

Basil jumped up from his chair and looked out of the window cautiously. "Where? I don't see him."

"What?" Dawson exclaimed. He joined Basil at the window. Sure enough, the street was empty. Dawson shook his head. "He was there a moment ago…"

"I don't doubt it," Basil assured him as he resumed his seat. "Did he speak to you?"

"When I bumped into him, he said, 'Excusez moi, monsieur.' "

"Interesting," Basil said thoughtfully, taking his pipe from the mantle and lighting it.

"A Frenchman?"

"I did first notice him during that forgery case in Paris, after all."

"I suppose I shouldn't be influenced so much by outward appearances," Dawson said sheepishly. "After all, he hasn't caused any harm. Perhaps he's only a client working up the nerve to ask us for help; he may feel a bit reluctant because he's a foreigner in an unfamiliar place."

Basil smiled to himself. Dawson always looked for the best in people. "Who knows?" he replied with a shrug. "We'll keep an eye out for him all the same."


	3. A New Case

Over the next few days, whenever they ventured outside, Basil and Dawson kept a watchful eye out for the French mouse. However, several weeks passed, and he wasn't seen again. But the two had learned from experience to never let their guard down.

One early October morning, Dawson had just finished a delicious breakfast and had settled into his chair to read the newspaper. However, Basil hadn't joined the doctor because he was busy at a table in the corner of the room conducting an experiment. Dawson often remarked on how unhealthy it was for Basil to go without food, but it was Basil's belief that the energy required to digest his food would be better used elsewhere.

Whenever Basil wasn't working on a case, he often grew melancholy and depressed. Basil had remarked to Dawson that during these periods of inactivity, his mind was like a racing engine tearing itself to pieces. And so, to keep from going mad with boredom, Basil had to find other means of occupying his mind. One of these included playing his beautiful Stradivarius violin. He was an excellent musician, and could even compose his own pieces. Dawson could often tell what sort of mood Basil was in just by listening to him play the instrument. It was also a time when the detective most seemed at peace, and he would pour his soul into the music. The only drawback to this was that Dawson would sometimes wake up at two or three in the morning to hear Basil still scraping away upon the instrument.

Another method Basil used to eliminate boredom was by indoor target practice. He had destroyed nearly all of poor Mrs. Judson's pillows, so he resorted to shooting the initials "M. R." into the wall.

Basil would also conduct chemical experiments as a means of passing the time, as he was doing now. He had always been an excellent chemist, one of the top students in his classes at the university. Nevertheless, once or twice Dawson had to fling open the windows in order for the fumes to escape so that they all didn't choke to death.

Dawson laughed to himself. It was a wonder that Mrs. Judson hadn't thrown Basil out on the street years ago. However, despite the detective's eccentricities, her tenant had grown on her, and she cared for him as if he were her own son. Although she and Dawson much preferred when Basil played the violin. But alas, today Dawson had come downstairs to find that Basil was already up and about with his sleeves rolled up as he was busy mixing some noxious chemicals in the various beakers and test tubes.

About an hour later, Dawson looked up from the morning paper as a soft knock sounded on the front door. He opened the door to reveal a lovely lady wearing a simple light green dress and matching hat. Dawson smiled as he recognized her. "Why, Miss Abigail Lockhart! Come in, come in!"

The lady smiled pleasantly. "Thank you, Dr. Dawson. I was afraid you wouldn't remember me."

Dawson smiled also. "No, I haven't forgotten, my dear. Basil, do you remember Miss Lockhart?"

"Mm-hmm," Basil replied without turning around. He was so immersed in his experiment that Dawson wondered if he actually heard his question. Almost three years ago, Basil had recovered Mrs. Lockhart's stolen emerald ring from a daring thief who turned out to be a master of disguise that was once a member of Professor Ratigan's criminal organization. It had taken place within a week after the Flaversham case and was Dawson's second case with Basil.

"It's miss Kingston now, actually," the lady corrected with a smile. "Married about three months ago."

"Ah, how wonderful! Congratulations, my dear," Dawson chuckled as he helped the lady out of her coat. "What a joyous time for you."

A shadow passed over Mrs. Kingston's beautiful features. "It was. That's why I've come here. Some things have happened, and... well, we're at our wits end what to do."

Basil's ears pricked up at this, but he remained bent over his test tubes and burners. Dawson cleared his throat. "Basil, you have a guest."

Basil waved his hand, which was stained from handling the various chemicals. "Yes, yes- I'll be with you shortly."

Dawson looked to Mrs. Kingston apologetically. Basil's social skills- or lack thereof- were appalling at times. But after disappearing into the kitchen for a moment, Basil finally greeted the young lady. "My apologies, Mrs. Kingston," he said, inclining his head. "I was just cleaning up the remains of a rather messy experiment," he explained, gesturing towards the table with a now clean hand.

"Oh, it's quite alright, Mr. Basil," Mrs. Kingston said with a chuckle. "There's no need to apologize."

Dawson smiled. As far as he knew, Basil had always been a bachelor, and he harbored a bit of distrust of women since he had been outsmarted by one. Nevertheless, he could be a perfect gentleman…when he wanted to, that is.

After everyone was seated, Basil remarked, "I take it something of a sinister nature occurred last night, and you wish to consult me about it."

Mrs. Kingston looked incredibly at the detective. "Why, y-yes. But how you could possibly have known that is beyond me."

Basil smiled and explained, "It's simple really. Only the lower two buttons of your boots are fastened, meaning you left home early this morning rather hurriedly. And, if I remember correctly, you still reside in Hampstead, which is a good distance from here. Something significant must have happened last night or very early this morning for you to have left home so early."

She smiled prettily. "Well, yes, you're right. I came here because Harold and I need your help. Of course, I immediately sent for Scotland Yard after the incident, but I remembered how you used your extraordinary powers to locate my missing emerald ring, and I knew that if anyone could help us, it was you."

Although he would never admit it, Basil was very susceptible to flattery, and he smiled at the visitor's compliments. "Oh, it was elementary, madam. Now, how can I be of assistance?"

After the lady took a sip of tea in order to help clear her voice, she began her story. "Last night, Harold and I went to bed as usual around ten. Everything was very quiet, and we both fell asleep quickly because we'd had a long day. But around 2:00 AM, I heard a strange noise as if someone was moving around in the next room. I'm a much lighter sleeper than Harold is, so I woke him and asked if he heard anything. We sat very still, and a few moments later, we both heard the same bumping noise again. Harold told me to stay put, and after taking the revolver from the side table drawer, he got up and crept out of the room. I sat there as he asked, praying that nothing was amiss. 

I then heard more noises, as if there was a struggle, a shot rang out… and then several bloodcurdling screams... But as suddenly as it started, all was quiet. I was so frightened that at first, I couldn't move. But I was scared that something had happened to Harold, so I got up and quietly stepped out into the hall. The screams also woke the staff downstairs, and they met me in the hallway. We all went to his office, which is right beside our bedroom, and turned on a light. The room was a mess. Papers were strewn everywhere, and a lamp had been knocked off a side table. But Harold…h-he was lying on the floor…c-covered in blood." By now the poor lady was trembling at recalling the tragic events of the night.

"Good heavens!" Dawson exclaimed. "You don't mean…"

"No, he is still alive, thank heavens. But barely. It looked as if a… a wild animal had tried to maul him to death. He had just gained consciousness right before I left this morning."

"Did they take anything?" Basil asked quietly.

"No, that's what I don't understand. Why would someone do such a horrible thing? Harold has no enemies. He's a bank teller. He wouldn't hurt a fly…" unable to continue, Mrs. Kingston broke down and began to sob quietly. Dawson rose and gently tried to console her.

Basil sat back in his chair, his eyes half-closed as if deep in thought. Moments later, he said, "I think the best course of action is to visit the scene of the crime. Would you be objected to our coming right now?"

"Oh no, Mr. Basil," Mrs. Kingston replied. "I had rather hoped you would come right away."

"Then we will make all haste to Hampstead."

Before leaving, however, Dawson quickly went to his room to fetch his trusty revolver, something he always carried on an investigation. He had learned from experience that it was best to be prepared should the worst happen, especially concerning the nature of this particular case.


	4. The Investigation

An hour later, Dawson and Basil met Inspector Thomas Grayson of Scotland Yard at the scene of the crime while Mrs. Kingston waited downstairs. The doctor and the inspector looked on as Basil examined the room in his systematic way. Grayson still thought the detective's ways to be quite eccentric, but although they had butted heads with each other in the past, the inspector welcomed any help the amateur detective could give to the Yard.

Whipping out his magnifying glass from his pocket, the detective got down on his hands and knees to examine the floor, which was horribly splattered with blood. He went over every inch of the room, paying special attention to the window. They followed as he examined the grounds below outside the house. The staff of the household was also questioned thoroughly, and they all gave basically the same story as Mrs. Kingston. They had heard screaming in the middle of the night, rushed upstairs to see what was the matter, and found poor Mr. Kingston in his office lying in a pool of blood.

After some time, Mrs. Kingston asked hopefully, "Have you found anything, Mr. Basil?"

"Not much, I'm afraid," he replied. "Judging from the length of his stride, the culprit is very tall. The window is obviously the point of entry. Robbery wasn't the motive since they didn't take anything. And you're sure Mr. Kingston has no enemies?"

"Not that I know of."

"Then I'm afraid I won't know any more until I've had a chance to speak with him myself. You said he gained consciousness just before you left. Did he say anything about what happened?"

"No. He was just very frightened. I've never seen him in such a state. He's barely spoken since."

"Well, I'm sure you'd rather be by his side right now. Rest assured I will do all in my power to find who did this."

"Thank you so much, Mr. Basil, Dr. Dawson," she said, the recovered emerald ring sparkling on her finger as she shook their hands. "We'll sleep all the better knowing you're on the case."

After the lady had gone, Basil turned to the Inspector. "Did you happen to get a look at Kingston's wounds? I didn't mention it while the lady was here for fear that it would frighten her more."

"I only got a glimpse," Grayson replied, "but that was enough. Deep, bloody gashes covered his whole body as if someone had tried to rip him to shreds. It's a wonder the poor mouse survived."

"What of the weapon?"

"That's the thing, Mr. Basil," Grayson answered with a shrug. "The doctor said that the wounds weren't made by a knife or any other such weapon. They were claw marks." Dawson gasped at this information, but Basil only raised an eyebrow in surprise. Grayson shook his head as he continued. "When the newspapers get wind of this, the public will be in a frenzy knowing that there's a wild, murderous criminal on the streets."

"Then we must get him off the streets as soon as possible," Basil replied. As the two mice left the Inspector to finish his investigation, Basil remarked, "You go on to Baker Street, Doctor. I have a few inquiries of my own to make." As the two friends parted ways, Dawson noticed that Basil was absently rubbing his scarred arm- an old injury he sustained from the claws of Professor Ratigan.

Later that evening, Dawson looked up as his friend entered. "This is a dark business, my dear Dawson," Basil remarked as he grabbed his pipe from the mantle. "It appears true that Kingston has no apparent enemies. Everyone I've spoken with has only good to say about him."

"And if robbery wasn't the intent," Dawson said gravely, "it appears we have a deranged killer on our hands."

"It appears so," Basil replied. "I only hope we can stop him before he strikes again."


	5. Another Victim

Unfortunately, Harold Kingston was not the monster's last victim. Two days later, Basil and Dawson received a telegram from Inspector Grayson requesting their presence at another crime scene. A young lady had been found in an alley covered in wounds similar to Kingston's. Unfortunately, she did not survive the attack. 

Dawson shook his head sadly as he examined the body, the victim's face frozen in an expression of pure terror. What pain she must have been through. But the likely cause of death had been a deep gash on her head. From the pattern of blood all around the area, it seemed that she had been thrown against the wall, the impact shattering her skull. 

Basil and Inspector Grayson had already questioned those involved. Two mice on their way home from working at the docks had heard screaming nearby, and following the source of the noises, found the young woman's body. One of them ran to find a police officer while the other had stayed with the body. But it had been too late to save her. 

Although her face had been slashed several times, she was still able to be identified as Miss Violet Gladstone. Dawson gasped at this news. "Isn't this the lady whose parents hired you when she was kidnapped and held for ransom?" he asked the detective.

Basil nodded solemnly. That case had happened a few months after the Flaversham case. "Two attacks within three days…" he remarked quietly.

"Now, wait just a moment, Basil," the inspector interrupted. "She could very well have been attacked by a cat or something. These things happen all the time."

Basil wheeled around upon Grayson. "A cat's claws would cause infinitely more damage. At the very least, limbs would be missing. Yes, cats are known to play with their food, but then they eat it. Besides, Inspector, do you see any traces of a cat around here? No, it was something, or someone, smaller than a cat."

Grayson shook his head in frustration. "You're suggesting she was killed by the same person who attacked Kingston?"

"But of course," Basil replied. "The nature of the wounds and the footprints around the area are the same."

"So we just have a crazed madman on the loose," Grayson said running his hands through his disheveled hair.

"No," Basil remarked thoughtfully, "on the contrary, a very intelligent madman. Despite the ferocity of these attacks, he's been very careful not to leave any traces of himself. Also, mad killers will target anyone on the street. So why would he take the trouble to climb up a rusty drainpipe to Kingston's second-story window? No, there must be something that links Kingston and Violet together."

Grayson sighed. "Well, what do we do now?"

"Question Miss Gladstone's family. Find out everything you can about her; her habits, her friends, anything that may be of use."

"And what will you do?"

"Pursue that missing link."

Over the next month, five more mice were mauled to death: Quentin Browning, whose son's murder Basil had investigated; Terrance Donovan, a banker whom a few years earlier had been robbed of thousands of pounds; Owen Tanner, whose jewelry store had been robbed some months ago; Amelia Walpole, who's missing husband Basil had helped to locate; and Margaret Wilkinson, whose husband had been the ringleader of a gang of smugglers. Each murder that Basil and Dawson investigated was the same. The unfortunate victim was found covered in bloody gashes, with virtually no sign of the culprit. Newspaper headlines blared with reports of a mad killer roaming the streets, preying upon innocent citizens. Needless to say, Mousedom was thrown into a state of mortal terror. Mice hurried about their business by day, casting nervous glances over their shoulders, and no one dared to be in the streets alone at night. 

One day, Dawson had just left his medical practice and was heading home towards Baker Street. He didn't meet many others on his way as everyone was afraid of the killer. But out of the few other pedestrians, he recognized one. 

It was that same French mouse with a scar he had seen several weeks ago. He was following him again! This time, though, Dawson was determined to confront the mouse. Instead of going directly home, he turned onto another street, wondering if the mouse would still follow. He did. Dawson then went into another side street, hoping he could cut off his follower and confront him. But when he came out on the other side, the mouse was nowhere to be seen. 

Dawson sighed and turned to go back to the main road. It was growing dark, and he needed to get home. But as he did so, he nearly stumbled over something lying in his path. _What on earth?_ He thought. _That wasn't here a minute ago, was it?_

As he knelt down to examine it, he discovered that it wasn't just an object; it was a person. Looking closer, he also noticed a small amount of blood. Turning the body over, Dawson nearly jumped out of his skin. He suddenly noticed the worn scarf around its neck, the torn ear, the wings, the peg leg...

"Fidget," Dawson gasped in shock.


	6. Fidget's Story

Dawson was shocked at the sight in front of him. He had assumed that the crippled bat had perished when Ratigan had thrown him off his dirigible and into the Thames. It was a miracle he had survived, especially with a peg-leg and a crippled wing.

The doctor was at a loss of what to do. Of course, he was repulsed at the sight of their old foe. After all, Fidget was the one who had kidnapped Olivia's father and later Olivia herself. Yet surely he couldn't in good conscious just walk away and leave Fidget in the state he was in.

Dawson gathered up the small bat into his arms and once again headed home towards Baker Street. _Basil's going to kill me for this,_ he thought to himself. But he was just going to bind up Fidget's wounds properly, then hopefully send him on his way with no trouble. Besides, if Fidget had been attacked by the same one responsible for the recent murders, he could have information that would be invaluable to the investigation.

The doctor entered their flat quietly so as not to disturb Mrs. Judson. Goodness knows what her reaction would be. He then laid Fidget on the sofa and turned on the lamp on the side table to look over his wounds.

Here in the light, Dawson could see that the bat's wounds weren't as bad as he had first imagined in that alleyway. There were three scratches across his left cheek and several more on his wings as if he had held up his arms to shield himself from his attacker.

As he finished patching up the bat's wounds, Fidget's eyes fluttered open, and suddenly, with a cry of terror, he sat up and latched onto Dawson."D-D-Don't let it get me! Don't let it get me!" he cried, burying his face in Dawson's shoulder.

"I-It's alright. You're safe now," Dawson said, attempting to pull Fidget off of him.

Although he was clearly terrified, Fidget looked up at the sound of Dawson's voice and released him. "Hey, I know you!" he said with his raspy voice. "You're with that Basil of Baker Street." Looking around frantically, Fidget edged away from the doctor. "W-Where am I? I-I didn't do nothin'!"

"No, everything's alright!" Dawson assured him. "You're not in trouble. I brought you here because you were hurt."

Fidget then noticed the bandages for the first time and seemed a bit confused that Dawson would help him. But as he remembered how he had received those wounds, he began to tremble.

Dawson sat on the sofa next to him. "What happened to you?" he asked quietly.

"I-I-It was awful," Fidget stammered with a gulp. "I was just walkin', mindin' my own bizness, an' this…this monster jumped out at me. I-It was big a-an' had glowin' yellow eyes-"

At that moment, Basil himself entered the door. The detective froze as his gaze fell upon the figure on the sofa. "What is _he_ doing here?"

"Now, now, Basil," Dawson said defensively, standing and putting himself between Basil and Fidget, "Just let me explain…"

Basil crossed his arms, narrowing his eyes at Dawson. "I'm all ears." After describing the circumstances of how he found Fidget, Basil forgot his anger and instead focused his attention on the bat. "You saw your attacker?" he asked eagerly. "Tell me everything you can remember, even the slightest details."

Fidget gulped. "I-I was walkin' down the street, took a shortcut through an alley on my way home, w-when I sees this tall black shadow. I got scared, s-so I turned 'round to go back. But he grabbed me and trapped me against the wall." The poor bat trembled even more as he recalled what had happened. "I's so scared," he moaned. "I-I begged 'im to let me go, told 'im I was sorry for happened that night…"

Basil leaned forward eagerly. "You knew him?" The poor bat nodded frantically in response. "Fidget, I need you to tell me. This could very well be the one responsible for all these murders. I need a name."

Fidget's terrified brown eyes met Basil's emerald ones. "R-Ratigan," was the whispered reply.


	7. Insanity

The doctor and the detective sat in shocked silence for several moments as Fidget rocked back and forth on the sofa. Images from the Flaversham case flashed through their minds, particularly of the crazed rat atop Big Ben. And for the second time in the past few weeks, Basil found himself involuntarily rubbing his scarred arm while a dull pain throbbed in his back.

Dawson shook his head. "Ratigan…alive?" he whispered incredibly.

Basil quickly replaced the initial shock on his face with his usual mask of reason. Though he very sincerely doubted that the Professor could have survived a fall from that height, he needed to know exactly what Fidget had seen. "Fidget, are you absolutely sure? What did he say to you?"

Fidget glanced up at the detective with what appeared to be an expression of complete confusion. "What did who say?"

Basil blinked. "What…? R-Ratigan." The name left an unpleasant taste in his mouth. "What did Ratigan say to you?"

"I-I don't know what yer talkin' about," Fidget frowned.

Now Basil's temper began to rise. He walked swiftly to the fireplace and pulled out a portrait of Ratigan from behind the framed newspaper article of him and Dawson being thanked by the Queen, then stormed back to the sofa. "Padriac Ratigan!" he emphasized, pointing to the grinning rat in the picture. "The Napoleon of Crime! You just said that he attacked you!"

Upon seeing the portrait, Fidget's eyes grew wide. "No!" he yelled, shrinking away from Basil. "No, no, no, no! Don't let 'im get me!"

As Basil shook his head in frustration, Dawson stepped in. "It's alright," he said, putting an arm on Fidget's shoulder. "You're safe here…"

As the doctor attempted to calm him, Fidget gasped suddenly and looked around the room frantically. "W-W-Where am I? What's goin' on?" Before Dawson could answer, Fidget's gaze fell upon Basil. "Hey, I know you. Yer that nosy 'tective…"

Basil and Dawson glanced at each other, neither liking the dangerous glint that came into the bat's eyes.

Noticing the bandages on his wings, Fidget glared at Dawson. "What did ya do t' me?" he growled.

Dawson held his hands up defensively. "I found you in an alleyway. You were injured, and I brought you here to help-"

"I know whatcha' doin'!" Fidget interrupted, the light from the fireplace reflecting in his crazed eyes. "Ya brought me here to him," he gestured at Basil, "and now yer gonna turn me in t' the cops!"

Before either could react, Fidget suddenly leaped at Basil, causing him to fall on his back. Basil suddenly found himself gasping for breath as the bat's hands locked around his neck. But as he saw Dawson go for his revolver, the bat jumped off of Basil and ran across the room.

"You'll never catch me, ya stupid 'tective!" he yelled, flinging the door open. He then ran outside, his maniacal laughter echoing into the night.

Dawson helped Basil to sit up as he gasped and coughed, filling his aching lungs with air. Basil shrugged the doctor off and stumbled to the door, but the crazed bat was long gone. Basil pounded his fist against the doorframe in frustration. The one possible lead to the numerous murders had slipped right through his fingers. "Another dead end," he murmured.

"I'm sorry, Basil," Dawson said quietly. "I should have run after him, but I was afraid..."

"Not your fault, old boy," Basil assured him. "I don't think either of us were quite prepared for that reaction." He sank into his favorite red armchair as Dawson sat in the green one opposite him. "Have you ever come across anything like that in your medical experience?"

"Not quite to that extent," Dawson replied. "I've dealt with traumatic head injuries which resulted in severe brain damage, but I'm not a specialist in that field, so my knowledge is limited. It is possible that Fidget could be suffering from some sort of memory loss as a result of falling from such a great height into the Thames. The impact could very likely have caused some damage to his brain." Dawson watched as the detective lit his pipe. "Basil?" he asked. "Do you…do you really think Ratigan is indeed alive?"

Basil sat deep in thought for several moments. "Rats have been known to survive a fall from about 15 meters, but seeing as Big Ben is over 96 meters tall, there is absolutely no possible way he could have survived falling to the ground below. It's also impossible for him to have fallen into the Thames as Fidget did since Big Ben sits well away from the river." He looked as if he was about to add something else, but decided against it. "No," he said, shaking his head, almost, Dawson noted, as if he were trying to reassure himself. "It is extremely improbable that he would still be alive."

"So…Fidget's claiming to see him is a result of his madness?"

Basil nodded. "Most likely."

Dawson sighed. "What do you think really happened to him?"

"Who knows?" Basil shrugged. "He could have been attacked by thugs, or anything, and have no memory of it. Though I doubt our murderer is the culprit, as Fidget is obviously still alive. We shall just have to hunt for clues elsewhere."


	8. Nightmare

Despite the strange events of the day, Dawson quickly drifted off to sleep, though his dreams were plagued by images of that maniacal little bat. But suddenly the doctor awoke to the sound of a loud _thump._ He quickly threw off the covers and grabbed his revolver from the drawer on his bedside table before quietly opening his bedroom door. As he tiptoed down the hall, Basil's door also opened, and the detective stepped out, muttering curses under his breath as he tied the belt of his purple dressing gown around his waist.

"Basil!" Dawson whispered. Basil looked up, and seeing that Dawson was armed, lifted an eyebrow in surprise. "I heard a noise, a loud thud," Dawson explained quietly.

"Oh. Um…" Basil stuttered, closing his door behind him, "th-that was me. I uh…I-I stubbed my toe against the…the thing."

Dawson sighed in relief, though he wondered at Basil's nervous behavior. "Oh," he replied. "I thought it might have been an intruder."

"Sorry to disturb you, old fellow," Basil apologized. "Everything's… fine."

Dawson couldn't see his face in the dim hallway, but from his tone, he could tell that Basil was slightly embarrassed. "It's quite alright," he replied with a yawn. "Well…goodnight then."

As Dawson headed back to bed, Basil sighed wearily and went downstairs and fell into his red armchair. He felt a bit guilty because what he told Dawson wasn't exactly what really happened. In reality, the loud thump was the sound of his body hitting the hard floor as he rolled out of bed from tossing and turning in his sleep.

Basil had first begun having nightmares right after the incident on Big Ben. But as time passed, they had gradually disappeared. Now they were back. He could only account for the dream because of Fidget showing up the past evening. The memories of the Flaversham case that had resurfaced must have been what triggered them again.

In the dream, he'd been reliving that night on top of Big Ben. The dream was slightly different from what had actually happened, but horrifying nonetheless. He shuddered as bits of the dream flashed through his mind.

Lightning flashed through the sky, the cold rain drenching Basil from head to foot. He was running along the hour hand of Big Ben trying to escape the clutches of his greatest foe, Professor Ratigan. But no matter where he ran, the rat was always there, yellow eyes glowing and razor-sharp teeth bared. He snarled, swiping at Basil several times with his black claws. Basil cried out in pain as the claws raked his face, back, and arm, the blood staining his torn clothes. Ratigan grabbed him by the throat and laughed in his face. "I've won!" The rat's maniacal laughter echoed as he threw Basil off the clock tower. Basil screamed as he fell through the mist, closer and closer toward the cobblestone streets below. And just as he was about to hit the ground, Basil awoke, tangled up in the bedsheets and head smarting from the impact of hitting the floor.

Basil rubbed his temples, frustrated with himself for letting a simple dream disturb him so. _This is ridiculous,_ he thought angrily. That was in the past. Ratigan is gone now, and there's no need to dwell on it any longer. It was only a dream, and nothing more. What he needed was a distraction. Basil reached for the Stradivarius violin by his side and began to play a slow, quiet tune so as not to wake anyone else up.

However, the doctor was still awake. While he lay in bed, he heard the low plaintive notes of the violin. He was suspicious that Basil was hiding the fact that he still had the nightmares, but he saw no need to bring such a sensitive matter up. But he still wished he could do something to help. A few minutes later, Dawson finally drifted back to sleep to the melancholy sounds of the detective's violin.


	9. Revelations

Dawson awoke the next morning and found Basil at the front door speaking with a distraught Officer Hawkins from Scotland Yard. As Basil turned to him with a grim expression, Dawson knew the killer had struck again. As Basil hastily pulled on his coat and hat, Dawson quickly followed suit and they headed out the door.

Hawkins explained that a security guard had just been found dead at Lloyd's Bank just down the road, and a considerable amount of money-- around £1 million -- missing. Dawson shuddered to think that the crime had happened so close to home. They met Inspector Grayson at the entrance of the building and followed him to the scene of the crime. Even with his iron constitution from his days in the service, Dawson felt his stomach turn as Grayson lifted the sheet from the victim's face. The body was a bloody mess, covered in the same deep gashes as the other victims. His face was so distorted that the only means of identifying him was an identification card in his inside pocket: Phillip Knightly.

Dawson shook his head sadly. Not long ago, Knightly had been falsely accused of being an accomplice in a robbery of this same bank, but Basil had proved his innocence. And now he had met a grisly end while doing his duty. One more on the list of this killer's victims. One more devastated family whose husband and father would not be coming home.

That same grim expression remained on Basil's face as he examined the scene. Blood on the floor, Knightly's discharged weapon and other signs of struggle indicating he had tried to fight his assailants, several safes that had been forced open, a small scrap of cloth that had snagged on a jagged edge of one of the destroyed safes. After questioning the owner of the bank and speaking briefly with Inspector Grayson, Basil and Dawson returned to Baker Street. Basil immediately went to work at his chemistry table to study the cloth he had found, and Dawson sank down in his chair wearily. He decided to look over the newspapers and police reports of the crimes of the past few weeks, trying to find some link, some clue, to help stop this villain.

Some time later, Basil grunted and slammed his fist down on the table in irritation, causing several test tubes to clink together, before making his way to the fireplace where he lit his pipe and began pacing back and forth across the room. Dawson shared his frustration. Their only witnesses were Fidget, who could be anywhere, and the first victim Harold Kingston, whose condition had worsened. 

"So," Dawson sighed, shifting through the papers scattered at his feet, "the only thing we know for certain is that all the victims were killed in the same manner. There's no discernable pattern other than that the crimes all occurred at night and the victims are basically mauled to death. How any sane person can commit such atrocities I'll never understand. But there must be something else, some clue… anything!"

"There is," Basil stated.

"There is?" Dawson repeated quizzically.

"Of course," said Basil matter-of-factly. "Don't you see it? One other factor links all these crimes together. Think for a moment, Doctor. What is the one thing that all the victims have in common other than the method in which they were attacked?"

Try as he might, Dawson couldn't come up with the answer. "I haven't the foggiest."

Basil placed his hands on Dawson's shoulders and looked him the eyes. "Dawson, how is it that we know these people?"

"Because… why, they've come to us for help." Dawson gasped at the realization. "Great Scot, they're all past clients." The detective nodded slowly in response. Dawson pondered for a moment. "Whoever is behind all these crimes… could they specifically be attacking them as a means to get at you?"

"It is a great possibility," Basil nodded gravely. "Which also means that anyone who has come to us in the past for help is in mortal danger- Ah!" Basil gasped suddenly and jumped back as if he had been shocked. A look of horror crossed his face for an instant and was next replaced by anger. He ran his hand through his disheveled hair and nearly cursed. "I am such an idiot!" he hissed. "Quickly, Dawson!" He dashed for the front door, stirring up the papers scattered on the floor and nearly knocking a side table over in the process.

Perplexed, Dawson asked, "Basil, what in the world-?"

"There's no time, lives are at stake!" Basil shouted as he flung the door open and ran outside. Dawson followed as quickly as he could, although he had no idea what had caused Basil so much distress. 

When Dawson stepped outside, Basil had his fingers to his mouth whistling shrilly. A few seconds later, Toby ran around from behind the building and skidded to a stop just inches away from them. The detective immediately leaped up onto the dog's back. "Come on, we've not a moment to lose!" he yelled as he reached a hand down to the doctor. As soon as he was seated behind Basil, Toby took off.

Basil used the dog's collar to steer Toby in the right direction, although Dawson couldn't even begin to guess where they were headed in such a hurry. He tried to question Basil as to their destination, but the detective didn't seem to hear him. He only muttered over and over, "I'll never forgive myself if anything's happened to them. Never…" He dug his heels into the dog's sides, urging him to go faster. Dawson shut his eyes tightly, feeling as if he would be flung off Toby's back at any moment. "No! We're too late!" Dawson heard Basil cry as they rounded a corner. He pulled hard on the collar, causing Toby to slow down. The detective leaped from Toby's back before he had come to a complete stop and sprinted forward.

Dawson finally opened his eyes but was almost blinded by the sudden brightness. Although the day was almost spent and it was growing dark, a fire that was rapidly consuming the building in front of him lit the night sky an eerie, glowing red-orange. "Stay, Toby," Dawson said breathlessly as he slid off the dog and rushed after Basil.

At first, Dawson didn't realize where they were since he had kept his eyes closed for most of the ride. But then his heart sank as he saw the broken sign hanging from the doorway of the burning building. 

Flaversham's Toy Shoppe.

There were several mice already at the scene of the fire, and Dawson ran to where Basil was interrogating one of them. To Dawson's surprise, Basil grabbed the unfortunate mouse by the collar and yelled, "You mean they're still inside?!"

Before Basil could question the poor fellow further, three mice emerged from the flames carrying another soot-covered mouse between them. As they took him a safe distance away from the burning building, Basil and Dawson ran to them.

"Is he alright, Dawson?" Basil asked worriedly.

As he examined the toymaker, Dawson nodded. "He has a few minor burns, but he'll live."

"Thank heavens-" Basil began, but he was interrupted as Flaversham came to. He coughed and tried to sit up, then began struggling frantically.

"It's alright, Mr. Flaversham!" Dawson said, attempting to calm the frightened toymaker. "It's me, Dr. Dawson, and Basil. You're safe now."

"No!" Flaversham cried. "Y-You don't understand! Olivia! I-I must find Olivia!"

Dawson gasped and Basil' froze in horror. "She's still inside?"

"I-I don't know!' Flaversham replied, tears coming to his eyes. "I was searching for her, but I must have fainted. I must go back!"

"Don't worry, Flaversham," Dawson said, gently holding Flaversham back. "We'll save her somehow- Basil? Basil, what are you doing?!"

The detective had jumped up and was sprinting directly towards the burning shop. He was lost to view as he ran through the door into the inferno.


	10. The Inferno

For one terrifying moment, Basil stood frozen in place. The smothering black smoke, the searing heat, the red-orange flames destroying everything in their path; every detail reminding him of that horrible night of his parents’ deaths. He was unable to move, nearly overwhelmed with the memories that threatened to take over his acute mind. It was the small sound of a child’s cry in the distance that brought him back to his senses.

“Olivia!” he called out, ducking under the smoke. “Olivia, where are you?”

“I-I’m in here!”

“Hold on!” Basil replied, hastening in the direction her voice came from. He quickly removed his cravat and placed it over his mouth and nose so he could breathe easier. Carefully climbing over destroyed furniture and toys and dodging falling debris from the ceiling, Basil made his way into a room at the back of the shop.

“Up here!” Olivia called. “The steps are gone!”

Basil took in the scene with horror. The stairway leading up to the second story had been completely destroyed. He looked around for another means of reaching her, but there was nothing, and the flames were growing wilder and the smoke thicker by the second. There was only one alternative.

“Olivia,” Basil instructed, "you have to jump!”

“W-What?!” the girl cried.

“You must jump! It’s the only way!” Basil insisted, holding out his arms just as he had the night he had lifted her up to safety on Big Ben. “I’ll catch you!”

“But I… I-I can’t!” Olivia stammered fearfully.

“Yes, you can!” Basil encouraged. “You can do it, Olivia! I promise I won’t let you fall!” As she still hesitated, he glanced around frantically at the advancing flames. Then an idea struck him. “Just imagine you’re jumping off of Toby’s back, like you did the night we were searching for your father at the toy shop. Remember?” Basil sighed with relief as she nodded slowly. “Good, good! Now I’m going to count to three, alright?”

“O-Okay."

“One…”

Olivia took a few steps back to get a running start, still trembling with fear.

“Two…”

She closed her eyes, trying to imagine the scene Basil had suggested. She placed all her trust in her hero, having no doubt that he wouldn't let her fall.

“Three!”

With that, Olivia flung herself over the ledge, leaping outward as far as she could. Basil grunted as he caught her, the force knocking him onto his back and causing the air to whoosh out of him as his head struck the floor.

“Basil! Basil, are you alright?!” came Olivia’s frantic voice through the haze of pain.

“I-I’m fine,” Basil replied, staggering to his feet. “Now let’s get out of here.” As the flames grew larger and larger, Basil quickly swooped Olivia up into his arms as he looked for a way out…

Time passed at an agonizingly slow pace, and Dawson grew more worried and could only watch helplessly as the flames consumed the shop. Smoke poured out the front door where Basil had disappeared, but the firefighters fought hard to extinguish the blaze. Several strangers also pitched in and did all they could to help. Dawson attempted to comfort Flaversham, who cried softly as he held his head in his hands. “My girl,” he moaned. "My poor little bairn…”

Finally, after several agonizing minutes, Basil leaped through the flames out of the broken window, holding Olivia in his arms. He stumbled forward a few steps before collapsing to the ground, coughing and choking. Several mice ran to his assistance, and they took the girl from him and led them away from the burning building. Dawson ran to him to see if he was alright, but the brave detective waved him away, pointing to Flaversham and Olivia. “H-Help them,” he said hoarsely.

However, Dawson put Basil’s arm around his shoulders, supporting him as he lead him back to sit on the ground beside of Flaversham and Olivia. The toymaker hugged his daughter tightly while Dawson examined her, but miraculously she was unhurt. Dawson noticed Basil’s Inverness coat draped around the girl's shoulders. Basil had wrapped her in his coat in order to protect her from the flames and to keep her from inhaling the smoke. 

Dawson wished he had his medical bag with him so he could better help Flaversham, but in their haste, he hadn’t thought to grab it. However, someone had sent for another doctor, and thankfully, he arrived within minutes. As the other doctor tended to Flaversham‘s wounds, Dawson tried to examine Basil, who continued coughing. But the detective protested, “I‘m fine, Dawson, really.” He then turned to the Flavershams worriedly. “Are they alright?”

“I believe so,” Dawson answered. “A few minor burns, but nothing too serious. Mr. Flaversham, can you tell us what happened?”

“It happened so quickly,” the toymaker replied. “As I was closing the shop, something crashed through the window, and there was a loud explosion. I was dazed and disoriented for a few moments, but I realized that the building was on fire, so I rushed into the back of the shop to find Olivia. But the smoke must have caused me to pass out.”

“Arson,” Dawson remarked in shock.

“Of course it was,” Basil replied almost snappishly. “And with all the other murders of my past clients… ugh, I should have known, should have seen this coming.” Dawson watched Basil with concern. The great detective only became this agitated when he had failed or made a mistake during a case, and this time he was being even harder on himself because the victims were personal friends.

Basil was pulled out of mentally berating himself when he felt Olivia tugging on his sleeve. Before he could react, she latched on to his torso and hugged him as she had done when she was younger. “Thank you,” she said quietly, burying her face in his shirt.

“Yes, thank you, Mr. Basil,” Flaversham said gratefully. “Once again, you’ve saved our lives.”

Basil only shook his head, too ashamed to even return Olivia’s hug. “I only wish I had realized sooner. But, unfortunately, I did not sense the danger until almost too late."

"How did you know we were in trouble?" Olivia asked curiously.

Basil briefly explained his suspicions about the victims of the recent killing spree all being his past clients and how he suspected that the toy shop arsonist could even be the same killer. "I expected to find you in the same state as the other victims, though, being mauled to death. But I suppose the culprit had a special ending planned for you two since you are not only past clients but friends as well. This was a more personal attack.” Basil hung his head sadly, wincing at the thought of what had almost happened to them. “I am truly very sorry for all this.”

“But it’s not your fault,” Olivia replied, staring up at her hero with those big blue eyes of hers. Basil found that he couldn’t even meet her gaze.

“Olivia’s right, Mr. Basil,” Flaversham agreed. “And if you hadn’t come along when you did…” He trailed off, too overcome to finish the sentence.

“All that matters now is that you’re both safe,” Dawson said with a small smile. A few moments later, someone alerted them that a human was approaching, and all the mice relocated to a safer spot in an alley beside the building. Of course as the human passed they saw the fire, and after getting help, they easily extinguished the small blaze before it could spread to the human residence above the Flaversham’s toy shop, which was now destroyed beyond recognition.

Dawson glanced over at the little family sadly. Toby sat down beside them and lowered his head for Olivia to pet him, causing her to giggle and talk to him sweetly. _What tragedy this poor family has been through,_ thought Dawson. First the whole affair with Ratigan and now this.

“It’s my fault,” Basil muttered insistently, thinking the same thoughts as Dawson as he ran a hand through his disheveled hair while he restlessly paced back and forth. “I should have known this would happen, should have checked on them sooner and protected them. I could have prevented this.”

“We all make mistakes,” Dawson replied softly, placing a hand on Basil’s shoulder, but he only shrugged it off.

“My mistake cost this family their means of living and almost their very lives!” Basil hissed angrily. “I-“

“Mr. Basil! Mr. Basil!!!”

Basil rubbed his temples, feeling a migraine coming on. “Ooh, for heaven’s sake, what is it now?” he growled irately.

He and Dawson turned toward the source of the voice and saw Stephen Hawkins from Scotland Yard sprinting down the street towards them. Skidding to a stop in front of them, the young officer bent over with his hands on his knees. “It’s…it’s awful,” he said breathlessly, “j-just awful! I came ‘round as fast as I could.”

“Steady on there, Hawkins,” Dawson said, placing his hands on the young mouse’s quivering shoulders. “Now, tell us calmly and slowly what has happened?”

Hawkins gulped. “A prison break."

Basil felt a chill run down his spine. “Prison break?” Dawson whispered in horror.

Hawkins nodded frantically, his eyes wide with fright. “Over fifty criminals have escaped from Dartmoor prison.”


	11. Unmasked

Dawson stifled a yawn while he and Basil made their way back to Baker Street as the first rays of the morning sun were already breaking through the clouds, painting the sky a sinister crimson and orange. Tired, defeated, and worn, they trudged down the streets wearily, returning home after an unsuccessful investigation of the case of the escaped prisoners of Dartmoor. The number of prisoners far outnumbered the guards and so they were easily overwhelmed. A few guards had been killed in the scuffle, but no helpful clues could be found. The prisoners had vanished without a trace.

The doctor looked up at his friend concernedly as Basil ran his hand through his disheveled hair in frustration for the umpteenth time. As if having a deranged killer on their hands wasn’t enough. Several of his clients had been killed, the Flavershams had nearly lost their lives, and now over fifty criminals that the great detective had fought hard to put behind bars were now free to roam the streets again. Basil walked ahead of Dawson wishing to be alone, head bowed with defeat and exhaustion, shoulders slumped as if weighed down by the enormous burden of this case.

Dawson opened his mouth to offer some words of encouragement when a loud clanging came from behind them, causing both mice to whirl around in surprise. They found that the source of the noise came from another mouse who had tripped and fallen into a dumpster against the side of a building and was hastily trying to climb out. As Basil and Dawson went over to get a better look, both froze in shock when they discovered that it was the French mouse with the long scar and twisted snarl, the one who had appeared to be watching them several weeks earlier. As soon as he realized he’d been spotted, the mouse clambered out of the bin with a curse and fled the moment his feet hit the pavement.

“After him!” Basil shouted, sprinting after the figure. Poor Dawson did his best to keep up but soon fell behind. Fighting his own fatigue, Basil moved as fast as his legs could carry him. He was amazed at the other mouse’s speed and worried that he would soon get away. But Basil knew this city like the back of his paw and could walk through it blindfolded, so he swiftly cut to the right and took a side alley where he knew he could go around and cut off his target. Sure enough, as the mouse rounded the corner he collided smack into Basil, causing both to tumble to the ground. Anger and frustration fueling him, Basil quickly gained the upper hand and pinned the French mouse to the ground.

“I don’t know who you are or what you want,” the detective growled, speaking in French, “but I do know that I’m growing tired of having a shadow tagging along behind-“ Basil froze as he noticed the long dark brown curly hair that was sprawled out on the ground under the mouse as the cap that normally hid the face lay nearby along with several bobby pins that must have held the hair up scattered about them. “You,” Basil breathed, staring at familiar golden-brown eyes that glared up at him defiantly, struggling in his strong grip.

Dawson finally caught up and ran over to Basil, panting heavily. “W-Well done, chap,” he congratulated, out of breath from the chase. “You got him!”

“Ugh, you got me alright! Now get off, y’ stupid-!”

Dawson stared in shock at the mouse, whose voice had grown higher in pitch and sounded more feminine though with an irritated edge to it. With his cheeks burning from embarrassment at his predicament, Basil hastily removed himself from the mouse, who stood and brushed off the dirt from their coat sleeve.

“I never thought you would show your face here again,” Basil finally remarked, his voice low and eyes cold.

“Well, nice to see you too,” the newcomer replied with a wry chuckle, removing what appeared to be plaster and makeup from their face, causing the deformed scar to disappear.

Now that the facial features were more clear Dawson stared dumbfounded, his mouth gaping open. “You…you’re a woman!”

“And you must be the charming Doctor Dawson,” the lady mouse replied, shaking Dawson’s hand with a cheerful smile. “Such a pleasure to meet you. I’m Charlotte Hampton.”

“Oh… you’re _that_ woman,” Dawson answered, glancing at Basil who glared at him agitatedly.

“Aw, so Bas has told you of me?” Charlotte replied, smiling cheekily at the detective.

“Don’t call me that,” Basil muttered under his breath.

Charlotte stood with her hands on her hips. “You’re not still bitter about the whole ‘Big Ben Caper’ thing, are you?”

“Why would I be?” Basil retorted. “You only lied to me, stuck a needle in my arm, and left me unconscious handcuffed to a sewer grate. Once Inspector Grayson finally found me I was the laughing stock of Scotland Yard for months.”

The playful smile disappeared from Charlotte’s face, her ears lowering at each accusation. “I told you, I only did it to protect you,” Charlotte replied quietly, burying her hands in the oversized pockets of her coat. Basil cringed inwardly, almost wishing he could take back his words. He hadn’t forgotten the note she had left in his pocket, almost able to recall it word for word. It still didn’t ease the hurt and guilt in his heart after she had gone.

“I-I know,” Basil replied quietly, rubbing the back of his neck. “I just… I wish you had trusted me! I could have helped you.”

“You know better than I do what that rat was capable of,” Charlotte countered. “If you had tried to protect me he would have killed us both long ago. The only way I could escape him was to disappear from the world. I… I couldn’t live with myself for risking your safety. The world still needs Basil of Baker Street, after all.”

Basil nodded. _But I needed you._ Basil blinked and mentally berated himself to quickly dispel _that_ thought.

“Besides,” Charlotte added with a small grin. “I can take care of myself. I always have.”

Basil couldn’t help smiling in return, but it disappeared as soon as he saw Dawson, who was grinning knowingly at the two younger mice. Feeling himself begin to blush, he glared at Dawson before clearing his throat.

“Getting back to the matter at hand, just why have you been stalking us the past few weeks anyway?”

“For one, I was afraid of your reaction to my sudden return,” Charlotte admitted, shuffling her feet. “And two, there’s a rumor floating around that…” As she trailed off Basil was surprised at the hint of fear that crept into her eyes.

“What?” Basil urged, putting his hands on her shoulders, eager for the least hint of a clue to help in the case. “What rumor?”

Charlotte shook her head. “We can’t discuss it here in the open,” she insisted, eyes darting around furtively.

“Baker Street then?” Dawson suggested.

“No, especially not there. I’m not the only one who’s been watching you.” Charlotte whispered something into Basil’s ear and he nodded silently, trying to ignore how her breath on his ear made the fur on the back of his neck stand on end. Dawson casually inched closer, straining his ears to hear but soon she pulled away. “Follow those instructions to the letter, and then we can talk,” Charlotte continued. Basil nodded again, watching as she tucked her hair back up and replaced the cap. Before she turned to go he called after her.

“Charlie?”

Charlotte turned around, her heart warming at using the nicknames they’d had for each other since they were kids. “Yes, Bas?”

Basil opened his mouth, but suddenly found he didn’t have the words. Blustering, he finally muttered, “Just be careful.”

Charlotte nodded. “You do the same. And I really am sorry,” she added. “For everything.”

“So am I," he replied quietly. Basil continued to stare in the direction she disappeared until he felt Dawson nudge him. Looking down he saw the same knowing look from before. “What?” he snapped.

“Nothing,” Dawson answered, still smiling. “I was just thinking, you two make a good couple-"

“Oh come off it, old man,” Basil grumbled, as he pulled up the collar of his coat to hide his blush, stomping off out of the alley and into the street. Dawson followed, panting at trying to keep up with Basil’s brisk pace.

“I guess you don’t care to tell me where in the world we’re going?”

“Baker Street,” Basil replied. Dawson looked up in confusion.

“But I thought-"

“We'll meet her elsewhere later tonight,” Basil explained quietly in case someone else were eavesdropping as Charlotte had feared. Dawson sighed in relief, hoping he might finally be able to catch some shuteye.

Once they reached Baker Street and he had downed a quick breakfast, Dawson practically fell onto the sofa, almost asleep before his head even hit the pillow. However, he found his nap cut short as something hit him in the face. Pulling the thing off, he saw Basil rummaging in an antique trunk nearby and tossing random articles of clothing over his shoulder, one of which had sailed across the room and landed on Dawson, disrupting his slumber. “Ugh, what the devil are you up to now?” Dawson groaned, rubbing sleep from his eyes.

“Well, we can’t very well show up at the Rat Trap in our normal clothes!” Basil replied over his shoulder, suddenly in a much more cheery mood. “It’d be suicide for Basil of Baker Street and Dr. Dawson to enter such a criminally oriented place. They’d have our heads on a spit!”

Plopping back on the couch tiredly, it took Dawson a moment to register what Basil had just said. Once it dawned on him, he struggled upright. “Oh, no. No, no, no, no,” Dawson sputtered, putting up his hands in protest. “Have you forgotten what happened last time?!” Dawson felt his cheeks burning in embarrassment at the memory. “I felt like a complete scoundrel! An absolute disgrace!”

“Please, Dawson,” Basil replied with a roll of his eyes, not turning from his task. “I’m sure you’re not the only mouse to have been bewitched by the charms of those lovely showgirls, especially after having imbibed so much alcohol.”

“How was I to know those drinks were drugged?!”

“I tried to warn you.".

“Still,” Dawson said adamantly, folding his arms, “there is nothing you can do that will make me don that ridiculous sailor disguise again.”

“No need to worry, my dear Dawson,” the detective said with a mischievous grin as he tossed another article of clothing to Dawson. “I have something else here that is much better suited for you this time.”


	12. Undercover

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just a little warning for the squeamish. The story becomes a bit more violent and dark after this point. So read on at your own risk.

“I hardly think this is much better than that sailor outfit,” Dawson complained as he studied his reflection in the water while they stood outside of the tavern. He sneezed, wiping a little bit of the soot off of his face that Basil had smeared on him from the fireplace at Baker Street. He glanced down at the old moth-eaten rags he was wearing with a grimace. “At least these clothes actually fit.”

“Oh, don’t be so cynical Dawson,” Basil tutted in a jovial mood as he adjusted the cap on his head with a grimy hand. “This is an opportunity for you to explore your inner thespian and adopt a completely different personality!”

Dawson crossed his arms and pouted. “I like my own personality just fine, thank you very much.”

“Rather boring at times, if you ask me.”

“I didn’t ask.“

“The rules are the same as before,” Basil interrupted, striking his match and lighting his cigarette. He blew out a puff of smoke while instructing Dawson on how to act. “We’re lowlife criminals wanted for heinous crimes, so no smiling or behaving like a proper gentlemouse. Just stay close to me and do as I do. We don’t want a repeat of what happened last time.”

Dawson sputtered indignantly. “Do you really have to keep bringing that up?!”

“Shh!” Basil shushed, and Dawson had no time to protest as his colleague threw the door open and waltzed inside the notorious pub known as the Rat Trap. It seemed nothing had changed in the dingy tavern since the last time the two mice had been there on the night of the Diamond Jubilee. Dawson grimaced, squinting his eyes to see in the dim light and trying not to choke on the cloud of cigar smoke covering the room. He followed close behind Basil as they wound their way through the tables. Most of the tavern’s patrons paid them no attention, either too wrapped up in their card games and drinks or distracted by the little show happening up on the stage, but Dawson was very much aware of a few threatening glares directed their way.

Basil picked a table near the bar where he could get a view of the entire room. While Dawson was distracted once again by the crooning of the showgirls on stage, Basil ordered their drinks using a disguised cockney accent and discreetly observed their surroundings, searching for one face in particular among this crowd of petty thieves and criminals. By the time the girls had finished their third dance number Basil was growing restless.

 _Where is that woman?!_ Basil thought, drumming his fingers against the table impatiently. _She should be here by now._

“Well hello there, handsome,” a familiar voice crooned behind Basil. He turned to see Charlotte standing over him but gave a start at seeing her dressed as one of the scantily clad showgirls in a red dress that hugged every inch of her curves, her hair done up with curls cascading over one shoulder. He pulled the collar of his coat up to try to hide the blush spreading on his cheeks, but it was clear from the twinkle in her eyes that she had already seen it. Before he could react Charlotte sat gracefully on Basil’s knee and grabbed his collar, pulling him closer to her.

“I found your lead,” Charlotte said, causing Basil to blush harder as her seductive voice whispered in his ear. “But the only way I can get you backstage is if you play along.” She pulled back and smiled, trailing a finger down his chest as she kept up the charade. "Shakespeare did say the world is a play, and all actors must play their part. Perhaps you haven't learned your role yet."

"You're not cultured enough to know Shakespeare,” Basil retorted, suddenly aware of the jealous stares from other patrons directed his way.

Charlotte feigned offense. "Oh, how cruel of you! Just like Merticuno!"

"Are you quite finished so we can get on with our investigation and out of this repulsive establishment?" Basil muttered from the corner of his mouth as he put on a lovesick smile, playing along with Charlotte’s little act. His arm snaked behind her back but before it could come to rest on her hip she smacked his hand away.

“Hmph,” Charlotte smirked playfully. She rose to her feet slowly and then leaned down again, making sure to show off her best assets. “Maybe you all you need is a little direction,” she purred, motioning him forward with her finger. Basil looked over at Dawson to see a set of twins making their own attempts to seduce the doctor.

“N-Now see here, I’m a married mouse!” Dawson protested, blushing furiously as he looked to Basil for help. Giving a roguish smile Basil winked.

“Don’t be so rude to th’ nice ladies,” Basil drawled in the fake accent, giving Dawson a knowing wink before turning back to follow Charlotte. Groaning apprehensively, Dawson allowed the attractive twins to lead him along as well, and soon they were escorted through the crowd and around the stage. Once behind the curtain Charlotte led them through a short dark hallway. After reaching one of the rooms Charlotte knocked briefly before leading them inside.

Dawson blinked and rubbed his eyes at the sudden brightness after being in the dark hallway, and as his eyes adjusted he was surprised to find that the twins had gone, leaving him and Basil with Charlotte. But he became even more surprised once he noticed a beautiful white-furred female mouse sitting opposite of them in a chair in front of a dressing table with a large mirror.

“These the friends you were telling me about, Charlie?” the lady mouse smiled as she turned around.

“They’re the ones,” Charlotte replied cheerfully. “This is Kathryn, but you probably know her better by her stage name. We go way back, don’t we, Kitty?”

“Mm-hmm. Y’ know, they don’t look much like detectives,” Kitty replied in amusement, chuckling at the state of Basil and Dawson’s dress.

“I’m afraid Basil of Baker Street wouldn’t be welcome here,” Basil replied as he introduced himself. He regarded the female sex as a sly and cunning sort, and as a result of past personal experiences was often mistrustful of them. But he always treated them with equal respect and never underestimated them. He had made that mistake once before and learned the hard way not to do it again. Basil accepted her hand and brought it up to his lips in a gentleman’s kiss. “Nor would his chronicler, Dr. Dawson," he added with a side glance at Dawson.

“Such a gentlemouse,” Kitty giggled, her cheeks turning a slight pink. “And quite a handsome one at that.” She then tilted her head curiously as her blue eyes came to rest on Dawson. “You seem awfully familiar… have we met before?”

“I, uh... no, no, I don’t believe so,” Dawson stammered, trying not to stare at her crossed legs showing from underneath the split of her blue dressing gown.

“Huh,” Kitty mused, causing Dawson to squirm uncomfortably. Basil broke the awkwardness by clearing his throat, but before he could speak Charlotte took charge. “Kitty, wasn’t there something you wanted to share with us?” she prodded.

“Right,” Kitty nodded, getting back to the matter at hand. “You fellas are investigating the serial killings. I’m afraid I can’t help you much with that, but I do have another bit of information regarding you, in particular, Mr. Basil.”

Basil’s piercing green eyes flashed with anticipation. At last, this could be the break he needed in this case. “And what might that be?” he asked, hardly able to contain his eagerness. However, Kitty shook her head solemnly.

“I don’t think you’ll be so excited once I tell you. You see, there’s a rumor floating around in the criminal underworld. It’s very hush-hush since most are even afraid to say his name anymore, but…” A look of genuine fear came into Kitty’s eyes as she lowered her voice. “It’s him. They say he’s alive, and that… that he’s coming for _you_ , Mr. Basil.”

A hush settled in the room after that statement. Dawson glanced at Basil, knowing this news would affect him the most, and watched in concern while Basil fought to hide the range of emotions that came over him. Scoff and amusement at such a ridiculous notion, then anger that someone would waste his time with such nonsense, and finally, a chilling fear that such an impossibility might be true. No. Ridiculous. It couldn’t be! However, the doubt had already taken root in the back of his mind and he fought to keep it from spreading like a poison through his brain.

Once he had found his voice again and mastered his emotions, Basil took a deep breath and focused on Kitty. “I have my own connections in London’s criminal underground,” he remarked coldly. “I think I would have heard of such a rumor by now.”

Kitty’s face turned red and she glared at Basil with her arms crossed irately. “Is that so?” she sneered, clearly offended that he doubted her word. “Well, maybe you should get out yourself more often, Mister Basil.”

“I think what Kitty is trying to say,” Charlotte interrupted as Basil opened his mouth to retort, pushing herself in between them, “is that you’re not a criminal, so you don’t have the connections that we do.” Her eyes twinkled in amusement as she pointed her finger against Basil’s chest. “And don’t forget you’re talking to one of the only mice to ever outsmart you.”

Basil scowled and pushed her hand away. “Hard to forget if you keep reminding me.”

“Could you two lovebirds stop bickering long enough to have a serious conversation?” Dawson interrupted irately as the tension began to get to him as well. “In case you’ve forgotten, we still have a deranged killer on the loose, and now apparently Ratigan’s ghost has come back from the dead to exact revenge upon you!”

“Well, that’s just it," Basil pointed out. "It’s only gossip. Rumors become twisted and jumbled as they’re passed from person to person until the story is completely different from the original truth. I mean, has anyone claimed yet to have actually seen Ratigan?” Kitty and Charlotte exchanged glances, and Basil groaned. “Oh, God. Don’t tell me.”

“You need to talk to Fidget,” Kitty answered with a nod. "He may be mad now, poor thing, but it's worth a shot, don't you think?"

“Bloody hell,” Basil muttered, rubbing his forehead as he felt his headache intensify as he recalled his last run-in with the maniacal little bat. But it looked like he was their only choice. “Where can we find that peg-legged monstrosity?”

“Last I saw him he was headed down to the old lair in the sewers,” Kitty answered. “He comes and goes from here frequently, so I think he must still live there. It’s not like the police go down there anymore since the Professor was defeated and all the other goons were arrested.”

“Can you take us there?” Basil asked.

Kitty smirked, examining her fingernails almost appearing bored. “I can…”

Basil groaned and rolled his eyes. “Fine. Will you _please_ take us?”

The white-furred mouse smiled again, enjoying the look on Basil’s face but after receiving a sharp nudge from Charlotte, she shrugged. “Eh, yeah, sure. I owe Charlie one anyway.”

“Thanks, doll,” Charlotte replied with a wink. “Although I hardly think this is appropriate attire if we’re to go gallivanting into the sewers.” With an innocent grin she turned her back to Basil and held up her hair away from her neck, exposing the back of her dress. “Be a dear, would you, darling?”

Basil glared but finally gave in with an annoyed sigh. He unbuttoned the dress, fingers clumsy as he was anxious to get it over with while a blush spread to his cheeks as her bare back was exposed. “Easy, tiger,” Charlotte teased as she stepped behind a folding screen to change back into a shirt and trousers.

“Good God, Violet is going to kill me,” Dawson muttered under his breath as he turned his back out of decency and squeezed his eyes shut, his face as red as a tomato.

“Don’t mind me, boys,” Charlotte called out cheerily, her bare silhouette visible against the thin screen. “Carry on!”

“Right,” Basil quickly cleared his throat. “Miss… Kitty. You were saying?”

Kitty nodded. “Sure, I can show you the way. But I’m afraid I don’t know where the actual hideout is; I can only take you to the entrance. That’s why I was hired, to distract the customers as the Professor and his gang came and went.”

“Wait, wasn’t the entrance through a trapdoor under the bar?” Dawson asked, remembering that that was how he and Basil had gotten to Ratigan’s lair the last time. Kitty looked over at him strangely and Dawson suddenly realized he’d put his foot in his mouth. “Erm, well, I-I mean-”

“There’s sure to be a more direct route, correct?” Basil hastily interrupted, glancing at Dawson with a glare.

Still a little puzzled as to how Dawson knew about the trap door, Kitty simply shrugged it off and nodded. “There is, but as I said, I'll only take you to the entrance. The Professor went to great lengths to keep his hiding place a secret.”

“Not much of a secret for a sewer rat to hide in the sewers,” Basil remarked sardonically, causing Kitty to tense at his use of the word “rat.” He noted her reaction with interest, marveling and even slightly impressed at how Ratigan’s reputation remained even so long after his death. Perhaps that explained why he also felt shivers crawling up his spine…

“That’s better,” Charlotte remarked as she stepped out from behind the screen, dressed in a simple dress shirt and brown trousers and boots with her hair tied back behind her head. “Shall we?” she said, her face beaming innocently.

“Ladies first,” Basil retorted, gesturing for her and Kitty to exit as he held the door open for them. Basil went after Dawson, and the three followed Miss Kitty as she guided them through more hallways and doors.

“This is it,” the stage girl announced after some length. She opened a simple wooden door that on the outside appeared to be nothing more than a broom closet. However, upon closer examination the door opened to a set of stairs that led downward into the floor. Taking a closer look, Basil stepped inside and craned his head to try to see down further. If the smell wasn’t any indication he could definitely make out the form of the sewers at the bottom of the dozen or so steps.

“That’s as far as I’ll go,” Kitty said determinedly, wrapping her robe more tightly around her shoulders as she shivered from the cold draft.

“Thank you for your help,” Basil replied, serious this time. Kitty nodded and gave a small smile.

“Please solve this, and soon,” Kitty whispered as she watched the trio disappear into the sewer. 

After taking their leave of Miss Kitty, Basil, Dawson, and Charlotte began the long trip down into the darkened tunnels of Mousedom’s underground. The route they took led through a winding maze of pipes. It was slow and difficult work because at one point the pipes became so small that they had to crawl on their hands and knees, their clothes becoming wet from the filthy water trickling through the pipes, but they pressed on determinedly. A wave of memories swept over Basil as they meandered through the labyrinth of pipes. He and Dawson had taken this same route while searching for Olivia and her father years ago on the night of the Queen’s Diamond Jubilee.

“Ugh, I never understood how someone as prim and fancy as Ratigan could live in such filth,” Charlotte remarked, grimacing at the stench and sewage they were crawling through. “I do hope you know where you’re going, Bas.”

“You worked for him,” Basil replied rather sardonically. “Shouldn’t you be leading the way?”

“Just because I pulled off one job for him doesn’t mean I know where the lair is,” Charlotte retorted crossly, bristling at the hidden accusation. “Like Kitty said, the Professor valued his privacy.”

“So it was only one job?” Basil scoffed.

“What, you don’t believe me?!” 

“I never said that.”

“You don’t have to! I told you before, the Big Ben Caper was my only stint with Ratigan. I saw him face to face only a handful of times, and most of those instances he threatened to kill you if I didn’t cooperate. Hey!” Charlotte protested as Basil suddenly clapped a hand over her mouth. Glaring angrily she tried to pry his hand away. “Mmph, wh’ th’ ‘ell ‘u doin’?!” she demanded in a muffled voice.

“Shh, listen!” Basil hissed in her ear. “Don’t you hear that?”

All three strained their ears and listened, but all that could be heard was the sound of water dripping and trickling through the pipes.

“I could have sworn…” Basil trailed off, his back rigid as he fought the urge to shiver. He thought he had heard a maniacal laugh in the distance.

“You’re hearing things, Bas,” Charlotte teased, tweaking his right ear.

“Whatever,” Basil retorted, annoyed that his own mind betrayed him and was playing tricks on him now. “Let’s just keep going.”

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, they reached the end of the long tunnel and opened a nearby sewer grate. Basil went first, motioning for the others once he made sure the coast was clear and then shutting the grate behind them. A familiar chill ran through Basil as they entered Ratigan’s lair at last, which was now only a shadow of the Napoleon of Crime’s regime. Yet it was still easily recognizable by the dully colored red banners hanging in tatters from the walls and a golden letter “R” painted in yellow on an overturned wine barrel, the entrance to what used to be Ratigan’s “throne room.”

Dawson and Charlotte watched quietly as Basil walked along almost as if in a trance. There was the barrel with the barred door that had served as Flaversham’s cell while Ratigan forced him to cooperate with his evil plans. There was the green bottle that had once held Olivia inside as hostage. Even the anvil and the scattered remains of the broken mousetrap that Basil and Dawson had barely escaped from with their lives, along with the dusty old record player where Ratigan’s voice had mockingly serenaded them as they awaited their death. It was just as he remembered, only more filthy now.

And there was Fidget, hanging upside down in his usual perch just inside the doorway to Ratigan’s throne room.

“Alright, let’s get this over with,” Basil sighed, marching past the others. “Fidget, wake up,” he stated loudly to wake him up. Fidget continued snoring loudly, muttering something in his sleep. Basil gritted his teeth, annoyed with the whole situation. “Fidget!”

Fidget yelped in surprise and fell from his perch, tumbling down the steps at the doorway. “Hey, waddaya think yer doin’-?!” Fidget’s eyes got wide as he saw the three mice standing around him and began to scramble around trying to back away. “Told ya I don’t know nuthin’!” 

“On the contrary; I think you know much more than you’re letting on,” Basil retorted. Fear came into the bat’s eyes as he looked up at Basil, but it soon faded as he started snickering in amusement, much to Basil’s annoyance.

“What’s so funny?” Basil demanded, feeling his skin crawl at the bat’s raspy laughter. Figdet grinned appearing as happy as could be.

“Yer gonna be in biiiig trouble soon, ‘tective,” Fidget giggled like a naughty child.

“What are you blathering on about?!”

“Big bad rat is back, Bassy!” Fidget laughed, hobbling around Basil as he stared in horror. “His claws gonna tear ya through, pour yer blood on the floor! He’s mad! He’s real mad, and he's gonna clean your corpse! How’s it feel ta be a hero now?!"

“Th-That’s enough!” Basil yelled, backing away from Fidget and tripping over his own feet, making him fall on his back. Dawson’s hand went to his revolver but Fidget seemed to lose interest and scrambled away, flapping his crippled wing.

“Ratti’s gonna getcha, Ratti’s gonna getcha,” Fidget snickered in a sing-song voice as he skipped happily away before fading into crazed laughter. Basil leaped to his feet to give chase but was held back as Dawson grabbed his arms.

“It’s no use, Basil.”

“That… that insane little…!” Basil seethed.

“Just let him go,” Charlotte said, putting a hand on his shoulder. “He’s not worth the time.”

Frustrated and a bit embarrassed, Basil shrugged away from Charlotte and faced the wall, bracing himself with both hands against it. He breathed heavily as Fidget’s words echoed in his head. In this intricate web of what was perhaps the most trying case of his career, Basil was scrambling for a thread that would lead to the spider at the center. Finding that clue at the Rat Trap was a long shot, but one Basil had been willing to take. He had held on to that one tiny glimmer of hope that he would finally uncover a clue that would get them back on track. But the endeavor had turned out to be just as he had feared. A complete waste.

“All this, and for what? Absolutely nothing,” Basil hissed through gritted teeth, hands trembling as he clenched them into fists and slammed them against the wall.

Charlotte flinched. She’d never seen Basil react so violently. Once he seemed a little calmer she ventured to ask, “What exactly did you expect to find?” Seeing Basil’s reaction to the question, she almost wished she hadn’t asked. With a dejected sigh, Basil’s hands relaxed and fell limp by his side, ignoring his bruised knuckles.

“Nothing. Nothing at all.”

Feeling her heart wrench Charlotte reached out to touch his shoulder but retracted her hand as Basil turned away. “I’m sorry, Basil,” Charlotte whispered, feeling guilty for bringing him on what turned out to be a wild goose chase.

“You should go home,” Basil replied, his voice sounding hollow and tired. “It’s… not safe.”

Charlotte felt her heart sink but she nodded, not wishing to start a fight with him about how she could take care of herself. “What about you? What will you do now?” she asked quietly.

“I need to think.”

Basil walked out of the lair without a second glance back while Dawson and Charlotte followed. When they reached the surface again a light drizzle had begun, but he didn’t seem to notice it as he walked further ahead of them. Charlotte watched him and then looked at Dawson with concern, but he had known Basil long enough to recognize his colleague’s behavior.

“It’s best to leave him be,” Dawson replied knowingly to Charlotte’s unspoken question. “Give him some space, let him clear his head.”

The lady nodded again and reached for Dawson’s hand. “Please take care of him, Doctor.”

“Indeed I shall,” Dawson replied, giving her hand a reassuring squeeze. “And thank you for all your help.”

“I’m afraid I only made things worse,” she remarked with a sad expression. “I’m good at that, it seems,” she added quietly, watching Basil’s lean silhouette fading down the street. Dawson glanced at her, his ears lowering at the sad look on her face. He didn’t know much about her and Basil’s past together, but he knew enough to see that their relationship had been a rocky one. 

Shaking her head Charlotte turned back to Dawson with a gentle smile. “Goodnight, Dr. Dawson.”

“Goodnight, Miss Charlotte,” Dawson replied. As Charlotte faded from view Dawson ran to catch up with Basil, and they walked in silence the rest of the way home.  
...

Basil angrily burst through the front door of his Baker Street flat with Dawson following behind quietly. He practically tore off his disguise and flung it away from him, not caring where the pieces of clothing would land, yet neither did he waste the time to change into his more comfortable dressing gown. Left only in his shirt and trousers and boots, Basil snatched up his pipe from the mantelpiece and cursed as he burned his hand from lighting it so hurriedly. Then he began pacing restlessly in front of the fire.

Dawson sighed as he slumped into his chair wearily, watching Basil with concern as he paced back and forth. He had never seen the detective so uneasy. Over the last few days, they’d spent hours reanalyzing what few clues they had, but it seemed that every clue led directly to a dead end. The failed meeting with Fidget was the last straw. The endeavor seemed now like a complete waste of time and energy, leaving them even more physically and mentally drained.

Dawson looked with concern at his friend. Poor Basil looked as if he were on the verge of collapse. He was breathing heavily, and sweat lined his brow. Basil was so concerned with his clients, that he took no thought for his own health. Although his feet ached, he continued to walk back and forth, clouds of smoke from his pipe swirling around him.

“Basil,” Dawson finally said after some time, “you need to sit.”

“I’m fine, Dawson,” Basil insisted with what almost sounded like a growl.

“No, you’re not,” Dawson pressed. “You’re exhausted. You must rest.”

Basil‘s bloodshot eyes flashed as he turned on Dawson angrily. “Rest?” he yelled, causing Dawson to flinch. “How can I rest?! People are dying because of me! Each moment that slips by puts more lives in danger. How can I possibly rest-?!” At that moment Basil swayed a little and almost collapsed, having to grab onto the mantelpiece for support, and Dawson decided that it was time to put his foot down. He stood, took Basil firmly by the shoulders, steered him towards his chair, then gently pushed him into it.

“This has gone far enough, Basil,” Dawson said sternly. “I know you’re concerned about the good of your clients and how much it means to you to find whoever is causing them harm. But you are literally working yourself to death. You’ve hardly been eating, you haven’t slept in days, you’ve been running all over London without any rest. I’ve said before that you have remarkable reserves of energy, but it won’t last forever. If you keep on like this, soon you will grow ill. You hardly have the energy to walk now. How will you be able to solve anything if you can’t even function normally?”

At first, Basil glared at Dawson with annoyance, and Dawson expected to be reprimanded for his actions. But Basil's ears flattened against his head and he sat silently, considering the doctor's words. Finally, Basil sighed heavily and leaned his head back against the chair. “Perhaps,” he remarked quietly, “it wouldn’t hurt to take a small respite for just a moment.” Dawson nodded and resumed his seat across from Basil. Basil looked sheepishly at his friend. “I’m sorry, Dawson,” Basil apologized. “I…I don’t know what came over me. But it was wrong of me to take my frustrations out on you. I do hope you can forgive me?”

Dawson’s eyebrows shot up briefly as he seldom received apologies from Basil, but then he smiled slightly. “It’s alright, old boy. You’re just worried, that’s all.”

Basil closed his eyes and laid his head back. “There are so many unanswered questions…”

“Like why would someone want to do this to you?”

“That’s an easy one: revenge,” Basil said matter-of-factly. “It is highly suggestive that all the victims were my clients. I’ve helped so many people during my career, and anyone who’s contacted me is in danger.” He lowered his gaze to the floor. “They’re suffering because of me.”

“No, whoever is behind all this is causing them to suffer," Dawson corrected. "You mustn’t think that this is your fault. That is just what this person wants. They know that you’ll feel guilty, and that guilt is consuming you, clouding your mind.”

“Perhaps,” Basil replied quietly. Still feeling restless he shifted in his seat and leaned forward with his elbows on his knees, fingertips resting together. “Then there’s this rumor of Ratigan’s return. It could very well be an invention of the true killer.”

“But why go to such trouble to create such a myth?” Dawson asked in confusion.

“To cause more panic and fear among the citizens of Mousedom. To spread doubt… even to myself,” Basil added quietly. He shook his head and gripped his fists together tightly. “It’s a cowardly tactic, hiding behind a fantasy of my archenemy returning from the dead. That is unless…”

Dawson sensed a change in Basil, growing more concerned at the paleness of his face. “Unless what?”

“Nothing,” Basil quickly responded, giving a dismissive wave of his hand. Dawson wished he knew what Basil was about to say but knew he would get no answer.

“So the motive is revenge,” Dawson repeated, trying to link all the pieces together. He sighed and rubbed the back of his head, sharing Basil’s frustration. “You’ve put so many criminals behind bars, it could be anyone. How do we even begin to narrow it down?”

“I… I don’t know, Dawson.”

Dawson had never seen his friend in such a state. The young detective seemed to have aged suddenly; premature silvery hairs shimmering in the light of the fire, head in his hands, slumped shoulders trembling. He had always been the one in control, always knew what to do in the direst of situations. But now…

Basil sat back up and ran a hand through his disheveled hair. This was ridiculous. They were only running in circles. “Let’s go over what we know,” he said, checking things off on his fingers. “We know that whoever this is has a grudge against me, but that could apply to most of the population of Mousedom. We know that they’ll attack people who were clients of mine, but we don’t know who they’ll target next. And then there’s the matter of that blasted prison break,” he added, rubbing his temples. “They must be connected. There must be a mastermind, someone who would want common criminals to do his bidding.”

“Sounds an awful lot like-” Dawson trailed off quietly.

“Precisely,” Basil agreed. Dawson looked up surprised at the look Basil gave him.

“I thought you didn’t believe the rumors,” Dawson pointed out.

“I don’t. Not the ridiculous notion that he’s arose from the dead. But the ones that he could have survived...”

The doctor stared at Basil with his mouth open. “But it’s impossible that someone could have fallen from that height and lived!”

“Improbable,” Basil corrected. “After all, we never found his body. That is the one point that has always perplexed me. There should have been some trace…bloodstains, a splattered corpse, something. But even Toby, with the most remarkable sense of smell of any hound I’ve trained, couldn’t find a single trace.”

“Something could have carried the body off,” Dawson suggested. “A stray cat, or a bird even.”

“Either way, some trace should have been left. And there was none.”

They sat in silence for several minutes, each trying to pierce the veil that covered this mystery.

“Dawson,” Basil said after a few moments, “do you… do you believe I’ve gone mad?”

“No, of course not.”

Basil noted how quickly the doctor responded. It was almost too quick. “You don’t think it’s even remotely foolish that I would even consider that…that Ratigan might possibly be alive?”

“I understand your concern,” Dawson replied carefully. “But I believe that the stress is wearing on you. You’re overly tired, and it‘s clouding your thinking. And I think the nightmares especially contribute to that.”

“Perhaps you’re right.” A steely gaze entered Basil’s green eyes, and he suddenly sprang to his feet. “But I will not sit idly while innocent lives are being taken. Speculation will get us nowhere. It is time for action.”

Dawson watched concerned as Basil grabbed his Inverness coat and hat. “Where are you going?”

“Out,” Basil replied simply, refilling his pipe. “I need to clear my head.”

The doctor sighed as the door shut behind Basil, but he refrained from following this time as he knew Basil liked his space. Still, his friend’s actions worried Dawson, and he hoped his fears of Basil working himself literally to death did not happen.

Outside the drizzle had turned into a light rain as Basil sat on his doorstep. After smoking for while he put his pipe down on the ground and sighed deeply, rubbing his tired eyes. He kept them closed for a moment, tuning out the rest of the world and wishing to turn his racing thoughts off for just a little while. His brain was a constant working machine, and it had run on overdrive so much lately that perhaps the doctor’s predictions might actually come true and he would burn himself out.

...

Basil stepped out into the night and turned his face up to the sky, enjoying the pleasant sensation of the sharp cool rain hitting his face, making himself and his thoughts feel a little more refreshed. His ear twitched when he heard a sound nearby, but when he opened his eyes he found himself staring down the barrel of a revolver. _Damn it,_ he thought to himself, frustrated that he had allowed himself to become so occupied that he didn’t detect the intruder until it was too late. He looked past the gun but it was too dark to recognize the face, especially as the features were hidden by a hat and upturned coat collar. Basil’s heart pounded as more figures surrounded him, and he tensed ready to fight to his last breath. But the gunman pressed his weapon closer right between Basil’s eyes.

“Don’t make a sound if you want your tubby friend to live,” the voice hissed. As he gestured to the window Basil followed his gaze to see another mouse pointing a rifle through the window aimed directly at Dawson, who was still sitting in his chair with his back to the window. Basil growled but was forced to comply with his friend’s own life in jeopardy.

The detective’s thoughts were interrupted as he was suddenly assaulted from behind. Basil immediately thrashed about wildly as four of the attackers fought to keep him secure, but he managed to strike out and land a few punches. However, he was soon rendered helpless as something smashed into his skull, causing stars to explode behind his eyes. He felt himself being dragged away from Baker Street into an ally, which gave him a little relief confirming that he was the one they wanted and not Dawson. However, he wasn’t keen on finding out just what they were going to do with him.

Although panting from the effort and feeling dizzy and nauseated from the blow, Basil started fighting back again weakly. But soon his eyes widened in horror as a cloth was forced over his mouth and he recognized the sickly sweet smell of chloroform. He renewed his struggles again, his shouts muffled by the cloth that threatened to smother him, but the drug was already taking effect, making his limbs feel heavy and his mind cloudy and sluggish.

Through lidded eyes, Basil could make out a large caped figure wearing a formal top hat suddenly looming above, casting a dark shadow across him. Basil’s heart nearly stopped as he stared up at the face grinning down at him. He felt a gloved hand stroke his cheek almost tenderly and shivered at the touch.

“Did you miss me?” the all too familiar voice crooned as Basil trembled and fought to stay conscious, a battle he quickly lost. Everything faded away apart from one single name that echoed in his brain as his world spiraled out of the control, realizing that his worst nightmare was coming true.

_Ratigan._


	13. Ghosts of the Past

Basil groaned softly as his eyes fluttered open. He tried to take stock of his surroundings, but there wasn’t much light in the room… or maybe it was because his vision was so blurry. He sat half-slumped over in a wooden chair, and when he tried to pick his head up it made him feel dizzy. He felt a little blood running down the side of his face and a throbbing pain in his head making it difficult to think. He went to put a hand on his aching head but found that his arms were tied behind him, along with ropes crossing over his chest and torso to keep him from squirming. His ankles were also tied to the legs of the chair, rendering him completely immobile.

Basil’s heart began to race as everything slowly came back to him. He remembered being seized roughly, trying to fight off his attackers, the blinding pain as something hit him on his left temple, the smell of chloroform… and that vile face smiling down on him as he slipped into unconsciousness. He had been captured and was now at the mercy of his archenemy who according to all logic and reason should be dead.

Professor Padraic Vincent Ratigan. The name alone nearly sent chills down Basil’s spine. After seeing him with his own eyes the detective could still hardly believe it was true. Even though the thought that Ratigan might actually still be alive had haunted him since they never found the body, it was still hard to believe. The question now was how the deuce had he survived that fall from Big Ben? No normal mouse could have lived through that. But then again, Ratigan had never been a normal “mouse.”

Basil mentally berated himself harshly. He shouldn’t have been so careless and had yet again walked straight into Ratigan‘s trap. He was only glad that he had left Dawson alone, at least for now.

Basil’s ears pricked up as he heard a nearby door creak open. The fur on the back of his neck stood on end as the rat himself entered, grinning evilly. He hadn’t changed much. The ex-Professor still wore a fine suit tailored specifically for his tall broad body and crisp white gloves to hide the black claws on long thin fingers. The only difference in his appearance was that his mortality was showing in the few flecks of gray in his raven black hair, each strand tucked neatly in place, and Basil noted a slight limp in his right leg. Yet the rat still moved with an almost delicate grace of a rodent half his size. By all appearances, he seemed the perfect gentleman. But Basil knew all too well that looks were deceiving, especially when dealing with the Napoleon of Crime himself.

“Good morning, sunshine,” Ratigan taunted as he sauntered forward, his tail slithering along the ground behind him like a snake. “Did you have a nice nap?”

“Ratigan,” Basil ground out through his teeth, mustering all the hate he could into that one word. He tried to pick up his head again to glare his foe, but it felt ten times heavier than normal. As the room began to spin making him feel nauseous, he let his head fall forward onto his chest.

“Sorry to have treated you so roughly, old boy,” Ratigan said with that same devious smile, clearly not sorry in the least. “If you’d been more cooperative, we wouldn’t have had to take such measures. Nevertheless, I’m quite pleased with the result my return had on you. I wish you could have seen your expression. It was as if you‘d seen a ghost.” Ratigan chuckled in amusement.

Basil clenched his bound fists. That rat always found a way to get under his skin, using every opportunity to taunt and humiliate him.

Ratigan noticed how irritated the detective became and pouted playfully. “Oh, come, Basil. Aren’t you even the slightest bit curious as to how I survived?”

“Yes, I’m… intrigued,” Basil tried to reply sarcastically, but his voice was still weak from the blow to his head and the effects of the chloroform.

Ratigan chuckled again, though a dangerous glint was present in his eyes. “Still just as insolent as ever, I see. No wild theories or guesses about my escape from death then?”

“I don’t believe in guessing, although I believe I can shed some light on the matter,” Basil replied with a small smirk. “Rats have been known to survive a fall from great heights, but only from a distance of fifty feet or so.” Basil’s smile widened just a tiny bit more as Ratigan’s face twitched slightly when he said the word rat. “The Clock Tower stands well over that height, so there is absolutely no possible way in which you could have made impact with the ground and survived. Plus there would have been some trace of your splattered remains, even if the body had been removed.

“Therefore the reason why you supposedly survived the fall is because you never made it to the ground to begin with. Judging from your remaining injuries— that slight limp and the stiff way in which you hold your right arm— I would say it’s more likely you landed on one of the ledges of the Clock Tower windows. It didn’t kill you by any means, but it also didn’t leave you completely unscathed; breaking your leg and dislocating your shoulder.

“But that doesn’t explain how you then got down from the tower. The windows, of course, would have been locked shut, and you were too wounded in order to break the glass yourself to get inside. However, a piece of debris that broke off from your dirigible as you pulled me and the propeller down with you would easily serve the purpose of breaking the window. Once inside, you painfully dragged yourself through the gears down to ground level, fleeing through the sewers you call home and disappearing from society, leaving the rest of the world to believe you were dead.”

Basil watched with satisfaction at Ratigan’s angry and almost embarrassed expression, confirming that he had deduced correctly. As Ratigan glared Basil wondered if he had overdone it but he stood his ground, meeting the rat’s gaze and not flinching an inch even as Ratigan let out a bitter chuckle. “It’s not such a miraculous tale when you put it that way,” Ratigan admitted.

“Nothing but sheer luck,” Basil remarked.

“Either way, gossip has a way of evolving the facts into a fantastic tale," Ratigan shrugged. "People fear you more when you’ve cheated death itself. Or even better, come back from the grave.”

“Lies and deceit, just as always,” Basil scoffed.

“It’s who I am, my dear Basil,” Ratigan said with a swooping bow. However, the smile disappeared again as he glared at the bound mouse. “Now if there are no further interruptions…”

“Be my guest,” Basil replied sardonically, shrugging his shoulders as best he could through the ropes. “It’s not as if I’ve got anything better to do with my time than listen to you monologuing— Ahh!” Basil winced as Ratigan stepped on his tail nonchalantly, grinding it under his foot. Ignoring Basil’s painful grunts, Ratigan moved on and continued his speech as if nothing had happened.

“As I recuperated, I began to formulate new plans. First I had to rebuild my organization from the ground up since you destroyed it. But it wasn’t as difficult a task as it first seemed. For instance, I often find someone who is on the run from the police, and I offer to protect them so long as they swear loyalty to me. Naturally, they can’t refuse, so I’ve quickly assembled a new force. That, and of course the brilliantly organized prison break. I soon put my recruits to good use. But I was anxious to exact my revenge upon you, dear Basil. Knowing how hard it is for you to refuse a case, we kept you busy for a while.”

“And to ensure that I would investigate,” Basil replied, looking up with a glare of hatred, “each victim you chose was a former client of mine.”

“Very good, Basil,” Ratigan mocked as he actually patted Basil on the head like a dog. “How clever of you to figure that out.” Becoming even more furious by Ratigan’s condescending attitude Basil tried to jerk his head away, but the sudden movement caused him to groan as his head pounded even more loudly from the lingering effects of the blow to his head and the chloroform.

“Yes, I know how concerned you are about the wellbeing of your clients,” Ratigan continued. “I‘ve followed your cases diligently, thanks to your chronicler. In fact, if it weren’t for the good Doctor’s accounts of your adventures, I would have never known who most of your clients were. Rather ironic, isn’t it?” Ratigan added with a chuckle as Basil’s ears flattened against his head. “And you can’t imagine how ecstatic I was to hear of the Flaversham’s return, though I had the most difficult time trying to decide on what to do to them. But I finally chose to burn the toyshop with them inside. I could hardly wait to witness your agony as you discovered their charred remains.” Ratigan frowned and crossed his arms. “But alas, you had to go and spoil that as well.”

Basil managed to raise his head a bit and glared at Ratigan. “That poor family has been through enough already—” he growled as he strained against the chains binding him to the chair. “My clients, all those people you’ve killed in cold blood… You won’t get away with it, Ratigan.”

The Professor laughed in amusement at Basil’s attempt at bravery. “Really, Basil. I should think that a mouse with such an intellect as yours could come up with a more dire threat than such a cliché as that.”

However, Basil continued defiantly. “When they find out I’m gone everyone will be searching for me. The queen will send her guards along with the whole force of Scotland Yard. And when they do find me, I’ll have the satisfaction of seeing you either behind bars, or more likely, hanging from a rope.”

Ratigan rolled his eyes, blowing out a puff of smoke that flittered into the air around his head. “Do you honestly believe that I’m afraid of those buffoons at Scotland Yard or even the palace guards? Give me a little credit, Basil. Everyone believes me to be to dead, remember? Even you were fooled. If it took you, the supposedly Great Mouse Detective, nearly three years to figure it out, how long do you expect it will take everyone else?”

Basil had no reply for that last stinging remark. As much as he hated to admit it, he knew that Ratigan was right. After all, Basil himself had remarked at the incompetence of Inspector Grayson and the Yard as a whole. And as far as anyone knew, Professor Ratigan had met his end the night of the Diamond Jubilee. No one would believe that he could have survived that fall. Basil had struggled with the truth of it himself. Yet, defying all odds, here Ratigan was, very much alive and looming over his captured foe.

“Besides,” Ratigan added cryptically, “when they do search for you, it will be for your arrest, not mine.”

Basil looked up in surprise. “ _My_ arrest?”

“Aw, still haven’t quite figured it all out yet, have you?” Ratigan tutted while pinching Basil’s cheek like a child, causing him to wince as he tried to pull away. This only caused Ratigan to grip Basil’s chin forcefully, holding his head immobile so that he was forced to look into his foe’s eyes. “I owe you a fall, my dear Basil. You’ve spent your whole life bringing justice to Mousedom when you have yet to pay for your own sins. But at last, all my years of waiting will soon be over, and you’ll finally get what’s been coming to you.”

“So that is what this is all about,” Basil said after regaining his composure. “Exacting revenge upon me for defeating you.”

“You will never defeat me, Brettman,” Ratigan snarled using Basil’s true surname, and suddenly Basil found his airway cut off as Ratigan’s claws locked around his throat. He gasped desperately for air as Ratigan hissed in his face. “Your father failed to stop me and he paid with his life, and so will you. You think you’re clever… when you’re nothing but a sad little boy following in his daddy’s footsteps playing detective. All those clever little deductions, your rise to fame; yet you are nothing without me, your greatest opponent. I made you… and I will _break_ you.”

Tears sprang to Basil’s eyes as he was choked, feeling the walls he’d built around his heart slowly crumbling as Ratigan chipped away at him. All the while Ratigan’s grip on his neck only grew stronger, seeing spots before his vision slowly became black as his lungs ached. But at last, Ratigan relinquished his grip and Basil coughed painfully, gasping and wheezing as he slowly regained his breath.

“As I was saying” Ratigan continued again, “there are still some things you have failed to deduce. Revenge is only part of my plan. And now that I have you,” he added, looming ominously over Basil, “no one will stand in my way. Soon all of Mousedom will bow before me, including the illustrious Basil of Baker Street.”

“There is… n-nothing you can do that will… that will make me bow to… a _rat_ like you,” Basil grunted, his breath still coming in short gasps. The Professor’s fur bristled at first, but he kept his composure and sauntered forward with a calm smile. Then in one swift movement, he slipped a knife from inside his cloak and stabbed it into Basil’s left leg, burying the blade almost up to the hilt. Basil could only gasp sharply at first. It happened so quickly that he had barely registered what had happened. But as soon as he got his breath back he let out a hoarse scream.

“Keep that up and soon you’ll be full of holes,” Ratigan threatened once Basil’s cries had died down. He still groaned faintly as he squeezed his eyes shut and gritted his teeth, just trying to breathe through the pain, which proved even more difficult after first being nearly choked to death. “You’re not going anywhere for a while, so just sit back, relax,” Ratigan cooed. “And enjoy these last few minutes of peace… because by the time I’m through you’ll be begging me to kill you just to end your misery.”

Chills went down Basil’s spine at the laughter that followed, and he watched with horror as Ratigan went out the door and slammed it shut. His stomach lurched as he stared down at the knife still buried in his leg, watching the bloodstain on his pants grow darker. The loss of blood and the pain was making his head swim, and with Ratigan’s words still echoing in his brain, he welcomed the darkness as consciousness finally slipped away from him.

……………………

A loud clap of thunder suddenly jolted Dawson awake. He looked at the clock and sighed, silently berating himself for falling asleep. Funny, he had never heard Basil come back inside from his smoke. Feeling his bones creaking in protest Dawson stood up and stretched his muscles before going up the stairs to bed, yawning along the way.

However, the doctor paused as he passed by Basil’s bedroom door. He poked his head inside and called out softly, but received no answer. Warning bells went off in Dawson’s mind, but what was wrong he didn’t know. Finding Basil’s bed empty was no uncommon thing, but when he searched the flat and still found no sign of his friend Dawson’s heart began to race. He went back down the stairs and out the door where he last saw Basil, but still received no answer when he called his name.

Dawson looked around confused. He knew his partner’s habits, and if he had left he would have given some indication of doing so, yet Dawson could find no note or any signs that he had gone save for his cap and Inverness coat being gone. He went back outside and called one more time, hoping to find that Basil had just gone for a brief walk to clear his head, but who in their right mind would go out for a stroll in this downpour?

That’s when Dawson saw it; Basil’s pipe lying on its side out in the rain. Dawson knelt down and picked it up carefully, examining the carved stem with the initials “RJB.” To most, it would seem was just an ordinary pipe, but this one had belonged to Basil’s late father and was engraved with his initials, and Dawson knew Basil would never be so careless to lose such a cherished possession or leave it out in the elements like this.

The uneasy feeling grew more and more as Dawson looked around the area, still calling out for his friend. He passed by an ally and would have walked on had he not seen something lying in the gutter. Dawson shuddered from more than just the cold and rain, feeling a blinding panic rising inside him as he knelt down and picked up the object which was stained with the unmistakable dark substance of blood.

Basil’s deerstalker cap.

…………………

Basil slowly and painfully regained consciousness as he felt himself being moved. However, he found himself too weak from the stress and blood loss to even attempt to fight back. The room was spinning so he closed his eyes. When he opened them again he found that he was suspended from his wrists by shackles attached to the ceiling and tried to stand up to take the weight off his arms. However he groaned as pain jolted up his left leg when he put pressure on it so he had to shift all his weight onto the other leg, trying to balance himself on only one foot. His stomach lurched when he looked down and saw the knife still impaled in his left leg, but a moment later a hand appeared and jerked the knife out unmercifully, causing Basil to let out a sharp cry of pain. The same hands quickly tied a strip of cloth around his leg, being not so gentle as they wrapped it tightly over the wound to keep him from bleeding out. Summoning the strength to lift up his head Basil looked up to see a tan furred mouse standing in front of him who chuckled as he cleaned the knife with a cloth.

“You’ve no idea how excited I’ve been to see you again, detective,” the mouse nearly spat with contempt. Basil’s ears lowered as he recognized the voice.

“J-Jaeger…?” Basil gasped, still wincing in pain from the knife wound.

“So you do remember me. I’m so _flattered_ ,” Erik Jaeger smirked, though he practically growled on the last word. Basil could hear the sarcasm and hate dripping from the assassin’s voice. The Australian mouse hadn’t changed much over the last two and a half years since Basil had seen him. His dirty blonde hair was disheveled as always, though normally it was hidden by a brown hat with a golden feather stuck in the band. However, the iconic hat was missing, along with his coat. The famous hunting rifle that was most always slung across his back was also missing, but Basil guessed that he didn’t plan to use it as the mouse toyed with the knife he had removed from Basil's leg.

“How?” Basil breathed, still in a little shock. This was the second ghost from his past to show up, and he was still getting over Ratigan’s return. Basil shook his head as if that would make the apparition disappear, but it did nothing but make his head hurt worse. “Y-You were executed for your crimes. Dawson was the attending physician. He pronounced you dead!”

Jaeger laughed in amusement. “Sounds like the doctor needs a new profession, mate,” he grinned. Basil watched nervously as Jaeger ran his finger along the edge of the knife now that it was clean of blood. “It was all the Professor’s doing, as you can imagine,” he continued as if simply chatting with an old friend. “He even made special arrangements for my hanging. One of his agents paid a visit to my cell just an hour before my execution; gave me some noxious concoction that knocked me out for a while. Don’t recall the name of the stuff… ’hydronated rhodanum’, or something like that.”

“Hydrated Rhododendron,” Basil corrected, closing his eyes as the pieces clicked into place. “Of course.”

“I see you’ve heard of it,” Jaeger smirked. “Then I guess you also know how it lowers your pulse and vital signs to an extent that it can’t be detected, even by an experienced physician as Dr. Dawson. That and a concealed hook in the knot of the hangman’s noose along with a custom harness to keep my neck from snapping did the rest.”

“I suppose Ratigan arranged for the removal of your body as well,” Basil replied. “An easy task with no family to claim you to give a proper burial.”

“The Professor’s a hell of a lot better than family, mate. He’s been very generous to me.”

“Yes, especially considering how eager you were to take over his organization after his supposed death,” Basil retorted, rolling his eyes. Jaeger’s fur bristled at the memory but Basil didn’t back down. He may not have movement in his limbs, but he still had his wit, and that was as good a weapon as any. Jaeger was known to have a temper especially if he was being taunted or made a fool of, and Basil knew just how to push the hunter’s buttons. Either way, bound or not, he was determined to be the one with the upper hand.

“My memory’s a little rusty,” Basil continued, “but I believe your words were something along the lines of ‘I'll be more powerful than that sewer rat ever was,' ” Basil had raised his voice just in case Ratigan might be closeby to hear. If Jaeger was indeed working for Ratigan again then perhaps, Basil thought, he could complicate matters by turning them against one another. By this point Jaeger was livid, glaring at Basil with his fist clenched so tightly it trembled. “Emphasis on the word ‘rat-' ” Basil added for good measure, but he was cut off when Jaeger suddenly punched him in the mouth, hard. He could taste blood from the cut in his swelling lip but Basil allowed himself a small smile of satisfaction as he saw a brief panic come into Jaeger’s eyes.

After glancing over his shoulder as if expecting Ratigan to come bursting through the door any minute Jaeger turned back to Basil with a glare. “Unless you have a death wish,” he growled, “I suggest you shut your damn mouth.”

“And I suggest you start praying that your boss hasn’t read Dawson’s account of ‘The Deadly Assassin,’” Basil retorted coldly, “or else he’ll find out just what his little hired gun really thinks about him.”

Basil braced himself as Jaeger’s fist raised again, but he looked up again warily as Jaeger started chuckling. “Clever, very clever, Mr. Basil,” he said, slowly clapping his hands in a mocking fashion. “But I see through your ruse. You won’t throw me off guard with your smartaleck quips and little deductions, mate. As for what I said about the Professor, what’s in the past is past. Although if I were you, I’d start worrying about your future.”

“Pray tell, just what exactly is in my future?” Basil asked sardonically.

“Your ultimate destruction,” Jaeger replied ominously, causing a shiver to run down Basil’s spine. Jaeger noticed him shudder involuntarily and smiled. “Already you feel that cold chill of death breathing down your neck. Does it scare you?”

“No,” Basil replied confidently, meeting Jaeger’s gaze unflinching.

“Even with the deaths of your clients on your head?” Jaeger laughed when Basil’s eyes shifted to the floor. “Ah, there it is. That guilt is just eating away at you isn’t it, mate?”

“And you’re just a model citizen yourself,” Basil retorted weakly.

“Let’s not point fingers,” Jaeger chuckled. “I’m no saint, but least I won’t be remembered as a failure.”

“The only thing you’ll ever be remembered for,” Basil replied with a glare, “is being a deranged killer who murders in cold blood for a paycheck.”

“Even criminals have to eat,” Jaeger shrugged.

“There’s much more easier and cleaner means of making a living.”

“Now where’s the fun in that, mate?” Jaeger chuckled darkly. “It’s like you said before, I live for the thrill of the hunt.” Jaeger suddenly grabbed the collar of Basil’s shirt and pulled him close, an intense hatred burning in the assassin’s cold blue eyes. “And you were always my biggest prize. Imagine the fame if I could claim that I killed Basil of Baker Street. It would make me the most feared hunter in all of Mousedom. I’ll become a legend. And I nearly had you, back when I dealt with that traitorous snake Evans. Then you had to come snooping around as usual.” Jaeger released his grip on Basil and cracked his knuckles. “But now I’ll teach you to keep your nose out of everyone’s business.” 

Stars exploded behind Basil’s eyes as Jaeger followed up this statement quite literally and his fist made contact with his face, punching him so hard that it nearly broke Basil’s nose. However, the assassin didn’t stop there. He tried to dodge the blows as best he could but with the chains holding him in place Basil had no means of defending himself as Jaeger vented out his frustrations on his captive. Basil grew weaker as time went on and grunted or cried out as the blows landed again and again. After a few agonizing minutes, which seemed like an eternity to Basil, Jaeger grew tired and stood panting, his own knuckles bruised from the force behind the blows. He laughed at the sight of Basil, who hung limply in the restraints groaning faintly. “Not so cocky now are ya, detective?” Jaeger sneered.

Despite the pain racking his body, Basil surprised Jaeger by managing to let out a short scoffing chuckle. “Yes, beating a restrained unarmed mouse. That’s a fair fight.”

“Talk to me about being fair after you’ve half rotted in prison waiting on death row,” Jaeger retorted, punching Basil in the stomach again.

“What happened to the... ‘thrill of the hunt’ you….you crave so much?” Basil coughed, trying to catch his breath.

“Nothing’s changed; you’re still my prey. One thing about a good hunter is that he learns from his mistakes. And this time I was one step ahead of you, mate.”

“Seems to me that the Professor does all the work for you,” Basil retorted, causing Jaeger to freeze. He knew he was treading on dangerous ground but was determined to not show any sign of weakness. He wouldn’t give them the satisfaction. “If not for him you’d be six feet in the ground. You’re nothing without him.”

A silence filled the room for a long moment before Jaeger crossed the room. Basil was about to smile to himself as he thought Jaeger would leave, but his eyes grew wide as he realized Jaeger’s intentions when he paused by the door. The chains on his wrists were attached to the ceiling by a simple pulley system that held Basil up off the ground, and there was a lever that allowed the chains to be loosened or pulled tighter. To Basil’s dismay, Jaeger pulled on the length of chain, hoisting him up higher until his feet could no longer touch the floor, leaving him dangling in the air by his arms. Basil grunted in pain as the pressure increased on his back and shoulders, feeling as if his arms would be pulled out of socket. Jaeger walked around him chuckling darkly.

“Just look at you, all strung up ready to be gutted like a fish.” With a frustrated growl, Basil swung his good leg back to try to kick Jaeger, but he instantly froze as Jaeger suddenly grabbed his hair and yanked his head back while pressing the knife against his exposed throat. "Don't try that, mate," Jaeger sneered. Panic began to set in as Basil watched Jaeger use the knife to cut the front of his shirt open slightly. “Don’t worry, I won’t kill you,” Jaeger promised, although Basil was beginning to think he might be better off dead. “But I promise to make it hurt like hell…” Basil couldn’t help trembling as he felt the cold steel brush past his fur and against his skin as Jaeger ran the knife slowly along his collarbone and down his chest. He was already flinching and Jaeger hadn’t even started yet.

“Let’s see you weasel your way out of this…”


	14. Pressure Point

While Jaeger prepared to make the first cut with the knife Basil’s mind was racing as he tried unsuccessfully to twist his body away. “Does Ratigan really give you all the honor of killing me while he isn’t here?” he asked to stall for time, looking for any excuse to distract the Australian mouse.

“Who said anything about killing you, mate?” Jaeger chuckled grimly. “I’m just gonna teach you a few manners.”

Basil raised an eyebrow as he glanced down at the dagger. “With a knife? My dear sir, manners are taught by gestures and words. In order to teach manners, one has to possess manners himself and not behave as an uncivilized savage.”

In an instant, the knife was at Basil’s throat. “You blasted posh Englishmice and your bloody uptight customs,” Jaeger growled. “Thinking you own the bloody world and looking down your noses at the rest of us. Well, let me tell ya, mate. You wouldn’t last a bloody day out in the outback!”

“Perhaps, but we’re not in the outback now are we?” Basil smirked. “This isn’t your filthy desert, this is London.”

Jaeger let out another frustrated growl. “Outback or not! The playing field is the same, mate!”

“On the contrary, _mate_ ,” Basil retorted. “It’s a different world here and no matter how you try you’ll never adapt to it.”

“Shut up,” Jaeger said, his voice low and dangerous as he glared at Basil with hatred.

“Why else do you think Ratigan chose Oliver Loran to be his right hand instead of you?" Basil prodded, knowing that that topic was a sore one for Jaeger. "You’re just a hired gun.”

“Shut. Up."

“Criminal scum like you can’t be trusted. A wild gun who roams the desert has no sense of discipline.”

“I said shut the hell up!” Jaeger yelled, pressing the knife harder until it broke the skin and a thin trickle of blood ran down Basil’s neck.

“You’re only proving my point," Basil said wincing at the stinging pain of the blade. "It’s no wonder Ratigan chose a civilized Englishmouse like Loran over a common thug like you.”

Seeing the stunned look on Jaeger’s face almost made the pain worth it for Basil. The Aussie glared at him in silence for a minute, breathing heavily and struggling to control his temper. It took every ounce of his self-control to not slit the detective’s throat then and there just to shut him up. But a moment later a thought occurred to Jaeger and the smile slowly returned to his face.

“Let me ask you something, detective. Why do you think Ratigan sprang me from prison and not Loran, hmm?” Basil honestly didn't have an answer for that. It didn't make sense, why _would_ Ratigan choose Jaeger over Loran? Loran was the more intelligent, more skilled assassin, and Ratigan had known Loran for years before Jaeger ever came along. So why would Ratigan pick Jaeger now? The only probable reason Basil could come up with was that the prison Loran was currently contained in was highly guarded and impossible to break into. But then again, so was the prison Jaeger came from, and Ratigan found a way to get him out. It didn’t make sense. The Australian mouse laughed when Basil gave no immediate reply. “No answer huh? Well, let me tell you why. It’s because Loran saved your friend.”

“My friend?” Basil repeated confused.

“You know, your doctor friend.” Basil’s eyes widened as Jaeger chuckled. “You were there too, remember? It was at a party a few years back. The day Loran was arrested. Ratigan gave Loran the order to kill him, and right before he pulled the trigger Loran choked and grew a conscience. He failed to carry out Ratigan’s orders, so when he was caught, Ratigan didn’t bail him out. Loran sacrificed himself for your friend, and you sent him to jail for it!”

Basil’s ears flattened and he winced as more guilt crept into his soul. He remembered that night clearly, the night Loran was finally captured and arrested. He had had no idea that Dawson had been the target. He only saw Loran with the gun and quickly made the arrest. Loran was a wanted criminal. Basil had never even questioned whether or not he should have been arrested. He had been so careless...

“You’re too clever for your own good, mate,” Jaeger chuckled cruelly. “And yet still utterly clueless! Like I said, it’s not about killing you, although that will come in due time. It’s about _ruining_ you.”

“How? By framing me for the murders?” Basil asked doubtfully trying to get Jaeger to talk and give away Ratigan's scheme. “There’s not a single shred of evidence to implicate me in those crimes. And even if you were to provide false evidence, with my reputation, no one would ever believe you.”

“On the contrary, mate,” Jaeger smirked. "Doesn't take much to ruin a reputation. Ya see, by this point, the Yard is desperate for a suspect. And you’re not always exactly on good terms with them, ay? You’ve had plenty of time to solve the case by now. And since ya up and disappeared in the middle of the case, that makes you look pretty suspicious, doesn’t it?”

Basil scoffed and rolled his eyes. Although he had to admit, Jaeger might have a point. It was true that he wasn't always exactly welcome at the Yard, as much as he had teased and remarked on Grayson and the other officer's intelligence. But even Inspector Grayson would have enough sense to see what was really going on. “They will come for me,” Basil said quietly, but the hint of doubt had already crept into his mind.

"Oh, you have far too much faith in the Yard, mate. Truth is they hate you as much as I do. You're no friend of theirs. You're just a lonely misfit looking to fit in with all the other do-gooders. And when push comes to shove they'll dump you first chance they get."

Basil watched as Jaeger turned to leave, and for a second he thought Jaeger would leave him suspended in the air by the chains. But Basil winced as the assassin walked to the other side of the room and lowered the chain enough that his feet could reach the floor again, but it still left him partially hanging from the ceiling. “Sweet dreams, detective,” Jaeger smirked, and once again Basil was left alone.

Basil instinctively tried to stand up to take some of the strain off his arms and shoulders, but the pain in his injured leg proved to be too much to bear his weight so he had to balance on one foot. But after what seemed like hours that leg too began to tire and eventually both legs gave out from under him, leaving him hanging from his arms again. His muscles ached and he was in such pain that he wanted to scream. All he wanted was a few moments of peace. At last, exhaustion overcame him and his world grew black as consciousness slipped away from him.

…………

Dawson sat in a chair in Inspector Grayson’s office at Scotland Yard, still clutching Basil’s bloodied deerstalker cap in his hands. After hearing Dawson’s account of what happened the experienced Inspector immediately took charge, giving out orders to his officers to begin the search for the missing detective.

“This is bad,” Grayson admitted guiltily as he paced the floor. “A search like this could take hours, even days, and we don’t have that kind of time.” He stopped pacing briefly when an idea occurred to him. “What about that hound of his? Do you think he could find him?”

Dawson sighed sadly. “That was the first thing I tried. But the storm washed away any signs of footprints or other clues. All that was left was his deerstalker and his pipe, and even with those the rain just made it too difficult for old Toby to follow the scent."

Grayson shook his head. “Basil has no shortage of enemies. Anyone could have taken him. And with the prison break that took place just less than twenty-four hours ago, there are even more criminals out there now with a grudge against him.”

Dawson’s ears perked up slightly and he looked up. “Do you think those two events could be related?”

“Who knows,” Grayson shrugged. “It could be entirely possible that whoever the mastermind is behind the prison break also had something to do with Basil’s kidnapping, but at this point, all of this is pure speculation,” Grayson added a bit agitated, running a hand through his disheveled hair. “We’re getting nowhere guessing like this. We need to take action and we need answers now.”

A moment later Grayson and Dawson jumped as another mouse burst into the room and shut the door behind him. Dawson smiled with relief at first, but an instant later it faded as the mouse turned around. He was the very likeness of Basil, only taller and older with a slightly stronger build. The inspector blustered at someone bursting into his office in such a manner but the newcomer interrupted before Grayson could say anything.

“Apologies for the interruption, Inspector,” the tall mouse said. “But I think you’ll find the matter at hand is more urgent than formal introductions.”

Grayson stared for a moment but before he could comment further Dawson stepped forward. “Byron?” he asked confused. “What are you doing here?”

“My brother, niece, and nephew all disappear on the same night within a span of mere hours apart? That’s no coincidence,” Byron answered, causing Dawson’s heart to sink even further.

“You mean Louise and Arthur are missing as well?”

“Unfortunately yes. They were taken from their home less than an hour ago.”

“Would someone kindly explain to me what the hell is going on?” Grayson demanded, gulping slightly when Byron, who was a bit taller than he, turned around and glared down at him.

“Do try to keep up, Inspector. I am Byron Brettman, head of Her Majesty’s secret service. And yes, I am also Basil’s brother, though very few in this world are privy to that information and we want to keep it that way, understood?”

“Understood, sir,” Grayson nodded. “But may I ask, how did you know about Basil’s disappearance?”

“Do you think I would be the head of the secret service and not know what’s going on at Scotland Yard?” Byron asked rolling his eyes, and Grayson blushed embarrassed.

“What of Bryna and William?" Dawson asked concerned. “Were they harmed?”

"No,” Byron shook his head. “But as a precaution, my sister and her husband have been taken to a safe place under the protection of my best agents."

Dawson looked at Basil’s cap in his hands worriedly. “They’re only children,” he said quietly. “If these are the same ones who took Basil then what need do they have for taking his niece and nephew if Basil is the one they wanted?”

“That’s precisely why they were the ones targeted,” Byron answered. “Basil does not always get along very well with children, but he has always had a soft spot for Louise and Arthur. They are family, after all. Whoever is behind this knows Basil, they know his strengths and weaknesses. Basil has been very careful to keep his surname hidden for that very reason.”

“Wait, Basil is his first name?” Grayson exclaimed.

“As I was saying,” Byron said ignoring Grayson’s outburst, “whoever we are dealing with will not hesitate to use any means necessary to hurt him. Which leads me to you, Doctor. You are the closest person in this world to him, and you were the last person to see him. I need to know every detail leading up to his disappearance. What made him leave the flat in the first place?”

“We were discussing the case," Dawson explained. "After a while, he said he needed time to think and went outside for some fresh air. I didn’t follow, thinking he needed the space. I should have gone with him, I should never have left him alone…”

“What kind of state was he in?” Byron prodded. “Mentally, emotionally?”

“He was agitated,” Dawson admitted. “Our most recent clue led to a dead end. He blames himself for these murders, the guilt at not having the case solved yet is nearly eating him alive. He’s had barely any sleep due to nightmares. You know as well as I how he is whenever one of those dark moods strikes him, but I have never seen him as bad as that, and I never want to see it again.”

Byron nodded understandingly. “Then we must find him at once. If he is already in such a vulnerable state, there’s no telling what his captors will do to him.” Byron’s ears lowered when he saw the look of hurt on Dawson’s face. “You mustn’t blame yourself, doctor. No one saw this coming.”

“I should have stayed with him. I should have insisted…”

“Torturing yourself with the ‘what ifs’ is not going to help. Right now we need to focus on bringing him home safe.” Dawson nodded quietly and looked down at the floor. “Now, your landlady, Mrs. Judson is it? Where is she at this time?”

“She’s in Brighton visiting her sister,” Dawson replied softly.

“Good. Still, as a precaution, I will send a couple of agents to secretly watch over her. We can’t be too careful. You know him better than anyone. Is there anyone else you can think of that the villains might target to hurt Basil?”

Dawson looked up and gasped. “Charlotte.”

“Who?”

“Charlotte Hampton. She is... an acquaintance of Basil’s."

Byron raised an eyebrow interested but nodded. “Do you know where we can find her?”

“I have no idea,” Dawson said worriedly. “We spoke to her just a few hours ago, but I don’t know where she lives or is staying. She was helping us in the case. I have to find her before-” Dawson said urgently rising from the chair, but Byron gently sat him back down.

“Leave it to me, Doctor,” he said assuredly. “For now, I need you to calm yourself and rest. We need everyone at their fullest potential if we’re going to find Basil. Alright?”

Dawson simply nodded, feeling the weight of defeat weighing heavily on his shoulders. As Byron left to give more orders to his own agents, Dawson was brought out of his thoughts when he felt a hand rest on his shoulder. He glanced up to see the Inspector looking at him with a small smile. “We’ll find him, Doctor,” Grayson said confidently. Dawson sighed tiredly and nodded, looking down sadly at the deerstalker still clutched in his hands. With his own worry for the detective growing with each passing minute, Grayson turned to leave with a few other officers to begin the search for the missing children and detective. 

"I only hope we find him before it’s too late," Dawson remarked sadly to himself.

………

Basil was painfully pulled awake when his body hit the floor hard. He groaned in agony as his arms and shoulders and back were burning with pain from being suspended in the air for hours on end, and fresh blood stained the makeshift bandage on the knife wound in his leg. He simply lay there too exhausted to even try to move. All he wanted a few more moments of sleep, at least then he couldn’t feel anything. But that wasn’t to happen as he felt Jaeger re-tie his hands behind his back and roughly pull him up, forcing him to sit on his knees. When it looked like Basil would fall over Jaeger grabbed his hair and jerked his head up, causing Basil to groan quietly.

“Don’t be rude,” Jaeger chuckled. “You’ve got company.”

Confused, Basil slowly opened his eyes. Once they adjusted to the light he gasped at the sight in front of him. Ratigan stood leaning against the doorway casually, watching Basil’s reactions with amusement. But the only thing Basil was focused on were the two tiny mice huddled together on the floor in front of Ratigan. They were his sister’s children, his own niece and nephew, Louise and Arthur.

"No," Basil breathed out. He stared at Ratigan trying to mask his intense fear of what was happening. "What have you done?"

"Nothing... Yet,” Ratigan smiled innocently, picking at an imaginary speck of dust on his suit. “That all depends on you."

“For god’s sake, they’re children!” Basil yelled out almost in desperation, struggling in Jaeger’s grip. “Leave them out of this, I’ll do anything…!” Basil stopped when he realized what he had said, but saw it was too late as Ratigan looked down at him with a satisfied smirk.

“Tell them it will be ok,” Ratigan demanded as he gently stroked Louise’s hair, causing her to shiver at the touch. “Look them in the eyes and tell them they will be safe.”

Basil swallowed, feeling himself begin to tremble. “Louise, Arty, look at me...”

Both children obediently turned their wide frightened eyes up at him. “U-Unca Basil, I’m scared,” Louise whispered, clutching her younger brother tightly as he whimpered softly, tears rolling down his little cheeks.

“I know, darling,” Basil replied quietly, trying to hide his own fear for their lives. He had to be brave for them. “But it’s going to be ok. Soon you’ll be back home safe with mummy and daddy. Both of you just be good and take care of each other, alright?”

"Promise them," Ratigan ordered.

Basil glanced down and took a deep breath, hating himself for what he was doing. It was all he could do to force himself to look them in the eyes. "You're going to be ok." Basil had to pause to swallow the lump in his throat. "I… I promise."

Ratigan chuckled, causing Basil to glare at him with hatred. “How does it feel, lying to your loved ones? Making a promise you know you can't keep?"

“So help me, Ratigan-” Basil hissed through gritted teeth.

“Perhaps you don’t realize the gravity of the situation,” Ratigan growled, and Basil stared in shock as Ratigan casually removed a revolver from his pocket and pretended to polish it with a handkerchief. “You’re in no position to be threatening me.”

Basil took another deep breath. He had to remain calm, he had to think clearly if nothing else for the sake of his family. “I never thought you would stoop so low as to threaten innocent children,” he nearly growled.

“I thought you knew me better than that, dear Basil,” Ratigan smiled playfully as he began to sing. “‘Worse than the widows and orphans you’ve drowned…’ Sound familiar?”

“Stop it,” Basil hissed, feeling himself tremble more. “Just let them go, they’re of no use to you.”

“On the contrary, I think they’re most useful. Don’t know why I didn’t try this ages ago,” Ratigan retorted, clearly enjoying himself.

“What do you want then?” Basil demanded. “Clearly you kidnapped them to ensure my cooperation, so what do you want from me?”

“Simple. I want to know what it’s going to take to break you.”

Basil shook his head in disbelief, looking back and forth between the children and the rat. “Don’t hurt them,” he finally said shutting his eyes as tears threatened to spill. “Don’t hurt my family. I’ll do whatever you want.”

“Show me. Show me what you're willing to do, and I'll let them go."

Basil’s heart pounded frantically. What else was he supposed to do? Ratigan had him right where he wanted him; on his knees practically begging for mercy. What else could he possibly do to prove that he would do anything to keep his family from harm? Taking a deep breath, Basil lowered his head and bowed himself as low to the ground as he could. Ratigan loved drama, and showing submission to a power-hungry rat like him would surely be enough. As much as he hated it, he knew the children’s lives depended on his actions. He didn’t care how much it hurt his pride, as long as they were safe.

“Please,” Basil repeated quietly. “Do what you will with me, just... please, don’t hurt them."

Several agonizing moments passed and Basil glanced up through the hair hanging in his face. He could see the range of emotions pass over Ratigan: shock, doubt, confusion. Then it turned to amusement and glee. The rat’s chuckles soon turned into laughter that echoed loudly in the room, causing Basil’s cheeks to burn with embarrassment. As if he hadn't been humiliated enough.

“Look at Mousedom’s greatest detective now,” Ratigan said as the laughter finally subsided. Basil looked up as Ratigan crossed the room and stood towering over him. “I told you I would make you bow, one way or another.”

Basil gritted his teeth in frustration. “Fine, you got your wish. Now let them go. You gave your word.”

Ratigan shrugged and waved his hand dismissively. “Throw them in the river," he instructed to someone behind him, and two thugs quickly stepped into the room.

Basil’s heart nearly stopped. “You lying bastard!!!” Basil screamed, renewing his struggles as Jaeger fought to hold him back. “You said you’d let them go free!”

“I am letting them go; right off the Tower Bridge and into the Thames,” Ratigan grinned like a naughty child.

“No..." Basil watched in shock as the two thugs grabbed the children, stuffing them inside a sack before taking them away. Their cries and pleas for help broke Basil's heart and he struggled as hard as he could in Jaeger's grasp. “N-No, you can’t do this, please! I’m the one you want!"

“And I have you right where I want you,” Ratigan cooed, stilling Basil by tilting his face up with the gun. “On your knees, slowly but surely coming undone at the seams.” Ratigan straightened himself up again and shook his head seeming disappointed. “Love is a dangerous disadvantage, Basil.”

“They are family,” Basil whispered quietly, his vision going blurry as he struggled to keep the tears at bay.

“What of the Doctor? Mrs. Judson? The Flavershams? That woman…” Basil looked up in shock. “Each person you care for is just one more pressure point in your already fragile shell. Here I thought you were above everyone else, on a higher level with me; but turns out you’re just as weak as the rest of them.” Ratigan shook his head and turned to go, but he froze when Basil’s voice caught his attention.

“I’ll kill you.”

The Professor turned back around slowly. “What did you just say?”

“I said, I’ll bloody kill you, you son of a bitch,” Basil nearly spat. Ratigan simply stared in shock, seeming unsure of how to react. Basil flinched slightly when Ratigan raised his hand as if to strike him, but for once he didn’t care. However, the blow never landed. Basil’s ears lowered as he looked up when he heard the sound of clapping.

“Bravo, Basil,” Ratigan chuckled. “You sound like a true criminal now.” He sighed and glanced at his pocket watch with a sad smile. “As much as I’d like to stay and chat, unfortunately, I have a strict schedule to keep. Sleep well,” he added with a cruel laugh as he left the room.

Basil looked down in shame. He hadn’t meant to sink so low, but Ratigan had pushed him too far. And now his own niece and nephew were to pay the price. The detective was brought out of his thoughts when Jaeger chuckled. "Never knew you had such a soft spot for kids," he said mockingly.

"They’re more than just kids,” Basil said sadly. “Imagine if it were your family. If it were your child."

Jaeger froze, and Basil’s eyes widened when he grabbed him by the collar. “How the hell do you know about her?” Jaeger growled dangerously.

Basil stared. “I didn’t; you just told me.” The look on Jaeger’s face would have been comical in any other situation, but Basil lifted an eyebrow as some pieces started to fit together. “That's why you've remained loyal to him all these years isn’t it? That’s why you do what you do. To ensure her safety, to make sure that she’s always cared for.” Basil glanced down and nodded toward Jaeger’s chest. “That locket you keep hidden under your shirt close to your heart... I'd wager there's a photograph of your daughter inside. You've had plenty of opportunities to return home to Australia to her, and yet you remain here. You’re his prisoner, and so long as you obey like a good dog she'll be protected-”

Basil didn’t get to finish as Jaeger punched him in the face, the power behind the force knocking him unconscious. The Australian panted as he stood there, glaring down at Basil. Without thinking he reached up and clutched the locket tightly in his hand, the things Basil had said brought back such strong feelings of homesickness. Jaeger closed his eyes and took a deep breath. Soon. Soon he would get to go home and keep his promise.

But first, he thought, glaring down at Basil’s unconscious form, he had a job to finish.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oliver Loran is an OC that belongs to my friend NightMagican and is used with her permission ^_^


	15. Poison

Despite Grayson’s urges for the doctor to stay in the protection of his office at Scotland Yard, Dawson grew more and more restless as time passed. How could he just sit there while his closest friend was in peril and do nothing about it? If the roles were reversed and it had been Dawson that was kidnapped instead, there was no doubt in his mind that Basil would stop at nothing to find him.

Another thought that plagued his mind was that of Miss Charlotte. Even though he’d only just met her, Dawson was observant enough to realize that she was another key person connected to Basil’s life, and therefore was just as likely to be the culprit’s next target as much as he was. Knowing Basil, Dawson knew that he would want him to make sure that she was out of harm’s way; and she in turn would want to know what had befallen Basil. And truth be told, Dawson had grown fond of her as well and could never forgive himself if anything were to happen to her. Also, Dawson had to admit that he couldn’t do this alone. He needed as many people looking for his friend as possible. Making up his mind, Dawson slipped out of Grayson’s office and discreetly left the premises and safety of Scotland Yard.

However, as he stepped out into the street Dawson realized his first dilemma; he had no idea where Charlotte lived. And so far each time he’d seen her she’d been in disguise. No doubt she was hiding behind an alias or several aliases even. Where would he even begin to look? He knew nothing about her family, friends, or colleagues. The only person he’d seen her interact with besides Basil was… Miss Kitty, Dawson thought to himself, embarrassed to find himself blushing as he thought of the pretty white-furred mouse. He groaned to himself as he realized that in order to talk to her he would have to return to the Rat Trap. However, as much as he hated that establishment, he squared his shoulders and walked down the street determined to do whatever was necessary.

After some time, Dawson finally reached the waterfront along the river. Oh, how he wished Basil was here with him. That mouse knew this city like the back of his hand, every alley and byway engraved into his memory. But alas, Basil was not here, and so Dawson would have to rely on his own instincts. As he walked along the docks he found it a much more difficult task than he first imagined as there were several rather seedy establishments along the waterfront, none of which were the one he was looking for. But no matter, he thought. He would search all night if he had to.

However, the doctor’s endeavors were interrupted as he heard a sound on one of the docks nearby. Sticking close to the shadows Dawson observed silently as a lone mouse carried a large sack over his shoulder. Not an unusual sight to see along the docks, but what caught Dawson’s attention was the movements inside the bag and a noise that sounded like a muffled cry. The mouse seemed to struggle with the weight of the bag and eventually had to drag it behind him, muttering curses and swears all the while. Dawson squinted his eyes trying to see in the dim light from the streets, and the mouse appeared to try to pick up the sack and made as if to throw it into the Thames.

Something felt very wrong about the whole situation, but why he didn’t know. However, before Dawson could move from his hiding place, another mouse jumped down from a crate nearby and tackled the mouse with the bag, knocking him to the ground and punching him repeatedly. Dawson ran over as fast as he could, and after a short struggle, he managed to pull the second mouse off of the first. However, by the time he succeeded, the first mouse was only half-conscious, sporting a black eye and a broken nose. Seeing that the mouse wasn’t in any immediate danger, Dawson turned to glare at the attacker and froze as he saw them open the bag and pull out a tiny child. Looking in the bag Dawson nearly fell backward as a girl squirmed out and jumped on him, hugging his neck tightly.

“Mr. Dawson!” the girl cried, burying her face into his shoulder.

Dawson's eyes widened as he instantly recognized the children. “There, there, Louise. It’s alright,” Dawson said rubbing her back and hugging her. He looked over at the other mouse who quietly shushed the boy, who was Louise's brother, Arthur, cradling him in their arms and rocking him gently. For the first time, he saw their face, and in the light, he could now see past the disguise and recognized who it was.

“Miss Charlotte,” Dawson breathed out relieved. “Do you have any idea what on earth is going on?”

“Not exactly, but I intend to find out,” the lady replied glaring at the half-conscious thug on the ground. Before he could say anymore Dawson watched with wide eyes as Charlotte passed Arthur to him and grabbed the mouse on the ground by the collar. “Really tough bloke, aren't you, picking on defenseless kids. I ought to save the Yard the trouble by throwing you in that sack and toss you into the river myself!

The mouse stared with wide eyes and blushed embarrassed when he realized that the one who caught him and beat him so easily was a woman. “L-Look lady, I was j-just followin’ orders!” he stammered nervously. He flinched when she pulled him closer.

“Whose orders?” Charlotte demanded. When the mouse remained silent she shook him roughly causing him to wince. “Answer me!”

The mouse opened his mouth, whether to answer or beg for mercy or curse in defiance they would never know because an instant later a bullet suddenly tore through the mouse’s skull. Charlotte yelped and dropped him, the mouse's now dead eyes staring unseeing up into the sky as a dark pool of blood spread beneath him.

“Get down!” Dawson shouted, his military instincts taking over as he grabbed Charlotte and pulled her and the children along, taking shelter behind one of the stacks of wooden crates nearby. Once he made sure that no harm was done to them he cautiously peeked around the edge where he thought the bullet might have come from, but he could see nothing at first. He tensed as another mouse came running down the docks toward them at hearing the sound of a gunshot and gripped his own revolver that he had drawn from his pocket ready to fight to the last breath if need be, but he lowered the gun as he saw the familiar form of a patrolling officer making his rounds.

“Officer, take cover!” Dawson shouted, stepping out just far enough so that they could see him.

The other mouse looked at him confused and stared at the dead mouse on the ground. “What the-?!”

“There’s a sniper, get down now!” Dawson yelled. The younger mouse glanced around worriedly as he staggered back to hide behind a post. “Where?”

“I’m not sure,” Dawson answered, daring to chance a peek from his hiding spot as the officer blew his whistle to call for backup.

“Who could do such a thing to children anyway?” Charlotte remarked as they waited for help to arrive, holding Arthur closer and gently rocking him as he began to cry again.

“They are Basil’s niece and nephew,” Dawson replied, causing Charlotte to look at him with shock. “Meaning that mouse could have been our best chance at finding Basil,” Dawson added shaking his head frustrated.

“What do you mean?” Charlotte asked curiously. Dawson looked at her, remembering that he hadn't told her yet. Her expression grew more worried when she saw the sad look on the doctor's face. “What happened? Where is Basil?”

Charlotte's heart sank as Dawson told her the events of the last few days. Very few mice knew of her and Basil's past together, and their relationship had been a rocky one. Still, that mouse was dear to her heart, and just imaging what horrors he might be facing at that moment terrified her.

"I came this way trying to find you, intending to go to the Rat Trap,” Dawson said, snapping Charlotte out of her thoughts. “I know we’ve only just met, but it's clear that Basil cares for you. And since this killer has been specifically targeting people close to him, I was afraid you might be in danger.”

“Thank you, doctor,” Charlotte smiled warmly, causing Dawson to blush a tiny bit. “Basil and I…” Dawson took note of how she paused briefly as if trying to chose how much detail she should reveal. Making up her mind she shook her head slightly, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear. “We were childhood friends. We met again briefly a few years ago but… well, I suppose we just lost touch. But I've been reading your stories about him over the years. He's never been one to have friends, but you are the closest person in the world that he could call a best friend. That makes you the prime target.”

Dawson smiled a little at that. Even though the detective tested his nerves and patience more than any other rodent he had ever encountered, Dawson also considered Basil to be his best friend. Such feelings only caused him to miss his friend even more, and his smile faded as he glanced back toward the direction where the killer had been. “If that's the case, then the assassin had the perfect opportunity to get rid of me. As you said before, he had a clear shot of me, more clear than the thug. He must have wanted to prevent the mouse from talking, perhaps. No loose ends.”

“Maybe the shooter knows something about Basil's kidnapping as well,” Charlotte said urgently. “Why else would he kill that mouse unless it was to prevent us from finding out who he worked for and possibly finding Basil?”

Dawson looked at her, feeling a small spark of hope return. “We need to find them…”

Not long after more officers arrived on the scene, taking care as they approached for fear of the assassin. But it appeared that the assassin had gone, leaving the officers with the task of examining the scene of the crime. Charlotte and Dawson explained what happened to the officer in charge, but the doctor trailed off when Louise tugged on his sleeve. “Is Unca Basil going to be ok?” she asked worriedly.

Dawson felt his heart break looking at the child's scared expression but he managed a small smile for her. “He will be. We’ll find him.” A thought suddenly hit him and Dawson knelt down in front of her. “Louise, did you see Basil?” A thrill ran through him as the girl nodded slowly. At least he was still alive. He took a deep breath, keeping in mind that this was a child he was dealing with so he had to be very careful in his wording so as not to scar her any more than this experience had already done. “I know it was all frightening- and you were very brave through it all- but can you tell me exactly what happened?”

Louise frowned and played with a small thread on her dress. “The bad mice took us away from home. They put us in nasty sacks like that one,” she said pointing to the bag on the ground.

“I’m sure that must have been unpleasant,” Dawson agreed. “Where did the bad mice take you?”

Louise paused and thought for a moment. “I don’t know. It was dark and cold, and it smelled funny,” she said wrinkling her nose in disgust. A cellar? Dawson wondered thinking to himself. “Unca Basil was tied up. Him and the big scary mouse talked an awful lot. Unca Basil told us it was ok, and to take care of each other. Then the bad mice took us away again.” Here the little girl's voice grew softer and Dawson had to lean slightly closer to hear her. “Unca Basil looked hurted bad,” she added quietly, causing Dawson's heart to sink as his worst fears were confirmed. “H-He’s going to be ok, r-right? He promised that e-everything would be fine. He promised…” She looked up at Dawson sadly and sniffed as tears came to her eyes. “You're going to r-rescue him, a-aren't you, Mr. Dawson?”

Despite feeling his own heart break, Dawson gently hugged the little girl as she broke down, trying to hide his own worried expression. “Shh, there, there, dear. I promise I'll do everything in my power to save Basil.” _Somehow,_ Dawson thought grimly to himself. He wanted desperately to know just how badly Basil was hurt but he couldn't stand to frighten the girl any more than she already was. Charlotte gently took the girl and tried to comfort her and her brother as Dawson spoke to one of the officers.

“Where is Inspector Grayson?”

“There was an emergency at Ravenwood prison,” the officer explained. “Some prisoners trying to escape.”

“Again?” Dawson said exasperated.

The officer nodded. “First Dartmoor, now Ravenwood. Wonder what has these prisoners so stirred up?”

“Ravenwood?” Dawson's ears perked up as something suddenly clicked in his mind. “Did anyone succeed in escaping the prison?” Dawson asked urgently.

“I don't know, doctor,” the mouse answered. “It happened not long ago so the details aren't known yet. The inspector is on his way there now.”

The doctor’s mind was spinning as he glanced at the body of the dead mouse. There were only two mice he knew of who could have made such a difficult shot. One of them was dead. The other… No, it was too much of a coincidence. Wasn't it? Again he wished with all his heart that Basil was here. He would know just what to do. But he was not, so Dawson squared his shoulders and determined to get to the bottom of it himself. It might be their only way of finding Basil before it was too late. And there was only one way to test his theory. It was time to visit an old friend.

……

A quiet groan escaped his lips as Basil slowly and painfully regained consciousness after feeling a sharp throbbing pain in his arm. He soon realized that he couldn’t move without pain racking his body, so he simply lay there trying to take stock of his surroundings. As his eyelids flickered open briefly, he found that his left eye was bruised and almost swollen shut, reminding him that his last memory was of Jaeger’s fist making contact with his face. He now found himself lying on his back on a hard wooden table, and as he glanced up a flash of lightning caught his eye from a window high up above him. He closed his eyes again, panting tiredly as he felt completely drained of energy. But they soon snapped open again when he heard a sound nearby, his heart racing as he saw a familiar shadow standing over him.

“Seems as though you hit a sore spot with Jaeger, mentioning his daughter,” Ratigan chuckled grimly. “You always did have a certain knack for that sort of thing.” Through half-lidded eyes, Basil saw Ratigan tuck away what looked like a syringe, which made him question the pain in his arm that he had woken up to, but he didn't have the energy to ponder it for long as his head was pounding. Instinctively Basil tried to raise himself up off the table to get away as Ratigan came closer, but being so weak could only fall back with a groan. “Everyone has a pressure point,” Ratigan mused, “and it seems that children fit that purpose well.”

Basil suddenly stiffened and clenched his hands into fists as his memories slowly returned. Feeling tears threaten to come he simply closed his eyes, waiting for whatever Ratigan would do to him next. At this point he hardly cared. If he did somehow manage to survive this whole affair, how could he live with himself? How could he ever face his own sister and tell her that he had failed to save her children? That they were dead because of him?

“You're uncharacteristically quiet,” Ratigan remarked, causing Basil to flinch involuntarily as he was so lost in his thoughts. “What’s the matter, old boy? Cat got your tongue?”

Basil tried unsuccessfully to repress a shudder as Ratigan chuckled at his own joke and leaned over him, resting his elbows on the table right at Basil's head. He felt so exposed, so vulnerable, with the rat hovering just inches above his face. “Everything I have to say has already crossed your mind,” Basil replied weakly, turning his head away.

“Then perhaps my answer has crossed yours.” Ratigan suddenly gripped Basil's chin, forcing him to look the rat in the eyes. “Oh, if only you had joined me when I offered the first proposition all those years ago,” Ratigan remarked wistfully. However, the look soon turned into a glare and Basil winced as the sharp claws slowly punctured his skin as Ratigan clutched his chin more tightly. “Such a waste,” Ratigan nearly spat in contempt. “You should have joined me when you had the chance.”

“I’m not a criminal like you,” Basil retorted.

“Oh please,” Ratigan replied rolling his eyes as he released his hold on Basil. “Certainly you’ve put enough criminals behind bars to amount to something, but after all these deaths you’re responsible for? Sort of cancels out all of those good deeds, doesn’t it?”

Basil wavered at that, feeling his heart race even more as guilt flooded him. Normally Ratigan jumped at the chance to take credit for whatever crime he had committed; so why was he passing the blame onto Basil this time? Basil shook his head in frustration. “The murders are not my fault. It was you. I am not a murderer.”

“Yet you feel guilty all the same. It’s eating away at you like a poison.” Basil shuddered as Ratigan ran his fingers lightly down his chest, reminding him of the scars he had received from those claws only a few years before. He flinched when Ratigan tapped the area over Basil's heart with his index finger. “Because deep down you know that if it weren’t for you, they’d still be alive. Your clients, your niece and nephew… why, your very own parents for that matter.”

Basil's face was illuminated briefly as Ratigan lit a cigarette, the small spark triggering memories he thought he had buried long ago. He could see his father's look of shock one second before the flames from the explosion engulfed him. He could feel the heat from the flames as the smoke nearly smothered him while he desperately tried to escape. He could hear his mother's screams as she was trapped beneath the rubble. And he had been unable to save them.

“No,” Basil gasped, breathing heavily as he felt the smoke filling his lungs when Ratigan blew the smoke from his cigarette into his face. “N-No, it wasn’t my fault! I would never kill anybody-!”

“You threatened to kill me. Just a few hours ago, remember? I believe your exact words were ‘I’ll bloody kill you, you son of a bitch’...” Ratigan snarled, causing Basil to shiver at the memory as he realized that he did indeed threaten such a thing. He stared at his foe, panting nervously as Ratigan gave him a sinister smile. “We're really not so different after all, are we? So enough with the charade, Basil. Why keep lying to yourself?”

Suddenly the room seemed to tilt and Basil's ears were ringing from the sound of thunder echoing all around him and lightning nearly blinding his vision. He blinked slowly, closing his eyes tight, and when he opened them he somehow found himself on the clock hand of Big Ben with the rain and wind whipping around him. He covered his ears as the sound of the clock’s gears grinding together and the incessant ticking felt like a hammer pounding on his head. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he thought he must be dreaming, but how could that be as only moments ago he was lying down on a table completely at Ratigan’s mercy? Had he fallen asleep? Surely not…

He didn’t have much time to ponder the situation as suddenly Ratigan’s maniacal laughter filled the air all around him. Shivers ran down his spine as he turned around and the rat himself loomed over him. Out of instinct Basil immediately tried to run, but it was the same as it always was in his nightmares; he was trapped with nowhere to escape. He stared up in fear at those yellow eyes that haunted his dreams glaring at him with absolute hatred.

“N-No…” Basil stammered, slowly backing away. Ratigan only chuckled and stalked toward his trapped prey.

“Nowhere to run, Basil,” Ratigan hissed. He swiped at Basil with his claws, missing the smaller mouse’s torso by mere centimeters.

“No, stay back!” Basil yelled. “G-Get away from me!” He stared as Ratigan crouched down ready to spring, and just when he jumped forward with a snarl, without realizing how close he was to the edge Basil took one last step backward and toppled over the edge. Basil screamed as he fell, watching the ground grow closer and closer.

One second later Basil hit the floor with a dull thud. His eyes snapped open and he panted and gasped for air, feeling disoriented and panicked. Ratigan smiled with satisfaction as he watched Basil shiver and curl up into a ball, groaning and almost whimpering in a combination of pain, fear, and shock. Basil squeezed his eyes shut as he felt himself being lifted up and placed back on the table lying on his back. He was nearly hyperventilating and trembling as Ratigan stood over him.

"Look at him," Ratigan smirked grabbing Basil's chin and forcibly turning it to the light so he could see his face. Basil flinched at the touch causing Ratigan to smile even wider. "Reduced to nothing but a scared little mouseling."

"And that was only half a dose," another voice chuckled. Nervously Basil glanced down near his feet where he was startled to see another figure standing, but the poor lighting and his blurry vision made it so that he couldn't make out their appearance. Hair color, fur color; Basil couldn't even make out what kind of rodent they were. He seemed tall for a mouse but not nearly as big as Ratigan. All he could see was a shadow.

"I admit I'm impressed, doctor," Ratigan replied to the other. “It took effect quite more quickly than I imagined, just a matter of seconds. The only problem is administering the drug to a group rather than injecting one at a time."

"Not to worry, Professor,” the other voice replied with a smile. “I'm currently perfecting a formula for aerosol dispersal in order to effectively dispense it to a larger crowd rather than injecting one at a time."

"Excellent," Ratigan replied happily. "Tell me more about the drug itself."

"It is a powerful narcotic, so side effects include marked drowsiness, sluggishness, some nausea occasionally depending on the strength of the patient, along with vivid hallucinations. It affects the nervous system and leaves the patient very susceptible to suggestions."

"Worst case scenario?"

"Cardiac arrest. The mind can only take so much, you see. But the benefits far outweigh the risks, in my own opinion. You're basically left with a terrified, mindless puppet to manipulate as you see fit, and even after the drug wears off the effects still linger. A simple whispered suggestion into the patient's ear while they're under will influence their thoughts and actions later on. They will believe anything you say and do almost anything you tell them to."

"Precisely what I wanted to hear."

"I've been eager to test it on a stronger mind. The patients I deal with tend to break more easily, so it's prevented me from obtaining the results I'd like."

"Well here's your chance to prove your little theory. However, I don't want him broken just yet. Once his mind is in the palm of my hand, he will destroy himself."

"You won't be disappointed, Professor."

No matter how hard he tried to focus on what they were saying Basil found that he just couldn't do it. The voices sounded so distant and echoed in the far reaches of his brain, making him only able to make out a word or phrase here and there. Somewhere along in the conversation, Basil watched horrified as the mouse near his feet took a needle and thread and began to sew up the knife wound in his leg. Far back in the rational part of his mind Basil realized that this was to prevent him from bleeding out as he had already lost a lot of blood, but combined with the distant voices and hallucinations the pain seemed to be amplified tenfold. He weakly began to struggle, causing the two to hold him down forcefully, which only caused him more panic. The hallucinations caused him to see much more blood flowing from the wound in his leg than there actually was, the shapes holding him down becoming as menacing shadows with glowing eyes, and he began to cry out as the pain and fear overtook him.

Growing annoyed by their squirming captive Ratigan held Basil's muzzled clamped shut to prevent him from screaming. Seeing the two huge claws holding his muzzle shut, Basil only stared in wide-eyed fear, unable to look away from the familiar yellow eyes glaring down at him. Blinding panic combined with the struggle to breathe with his mouth forced shut caused his world to go dark, and mercifully he slipped into unconsciousness.


	16. An Old Friend

When Dawson and Charlotte met up with Grayson at Ravenwood Prison, of course, the Inspector reprimanded Dawson for leaving the safety of his office at Scotland Yard. However, as Dawson recounted the happenings of the night involving Basil’s niece and nephew, Grayson admitted that perhaps it was best to have Dawson working directly alongside him instead. Although as he was introduced to Charlotte, the Inspector hesitated at bringing a woman along as it could be dangerous. However, when she strongly protested and Dawson mentioned that she was a friend of Basil’s (since when did he have female friends, anyway?) Grayson acquiesced. Although something about the woman did seem familiar to the inspector, but for the life of him, Grayson couldn't place where he'd seen that face. No matter. He needed all the help he could get to solve the events surrounding Basil’s disappearance, including this attempted break out at the prison. 

The scene as the trio arrived at Ravenwood was one of chaos. Riotous inmates shouted and cursed loudly, banging on their cell doors while the guards were still attempting to restore some sense of order. The three mice walked along through the hallways with the prison warden, who explained what had happened.

“When news of the escape at Dartmoor spread, the prisoners here became more and more rowdy and agitated. One group broke free and attacked the guards as they were being escorted back to their cells from the mess hall, taking their weapons and attempting to set others free. But they were recaptured fairly quickly and we managed to keep it contained.”

“Right,” Grayson nodded briskly, wanting to get out of the chaotic place as soon as possible. “You’ve got everything under control now?”

“Yes sir.”

“Then let’s not waste any more time here.”

“Wait just a moment,” Dawson finally spoke up. Grayson turned back and looked at him confused.

“Why? There’s nothing else to be gained here, doctor.”

“Show me to Oliver Loran's cell,” Dawson instructed somewhat sternly, causing everyone to glance at him questioningly.

“Loran?” Grayson repeated, raising one eyebrow skeptically. “The warden just assured us that no one escaped, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

“Just humor me, Inspector.” After thinking the matter over for a moment Grayson, albeit reluctantly, nodded and asked the warden to take them there.

“Loran is actually one of our best-behaved inmates,” the warden explained along the way. “However, he is still a convicted murderer, so best keep your guard up,” he added with a brief glance in Charlotte’s direction, who rolled her eyes slightly. They continued to follow the warden deeper into a more secure part of the prison, although the noise and commotion from the other sectors still rang through the air.

Minutes later they stopped outside one cell that contained a single mouse lying on a bunk attached to the opposite wall. The gray furred mouse would have appeared to be asleep if not for the cigarette hanging loosely from his lips, a thin wisp of smoke curling in the air above him. When he heard the footsteps outside his cell the mouse groaned. “Ugh, can’t you do something about that din, Warden? Makes it hard for a mouse to relax.”

“No time to nap now, Loran,” the warden smiled grimly. “You’ve got visitors.”

"Visitors?” The mouse asked curiously as he sat up. When he saw Grayson the mouse smirked and blew out smoke from the cigarette. “Well, well, if it isn’t the little Inspector.”

Grayson glared at the mouse and rolled his eyes as he turned back to Dawson. “See, he's still in his cell. We’re wasting our time.”

“Just give me a minute with him,” Dawson replied quietly. Hearing a familiar voice Loran craned his head to try to see what was going on, and his ears folded back briefly as his blue eyes met Dawson’s. All the guilt he had tried to bury flooded back so suddenly, but he took a deep breath and managed to meet the doctor’s gaze.

“Hello, doc.”

Dawson smiled as the memories flooded back. “Hello, old friend.”

“Hm, friend,” Loran repeated, smiling a little. “So to what do I owe the pleasure? Are you here to make a check-up on my wound?” the grey mouse smirked and stood up, a smoke trail from the cigarette following him as he walked to the bars. Dawson stood for a moment and thought. He needed to earn the trust of the ex-assassin and asked the warden to open the cell door. The Inspector wasn’t too keen on the idea but once again went along with whatever Dawson was planning.

The others watched carefully as the door was opened and Dawson stepped inside, but thankfully escape didn't seem to be on Loran's mind. He sat back down on the edge of the bed and unbuttoned his shirt for the doctor to examine the old gunshot wound in his side just below his liver. “Y’know, it’s not safe to finger a loaded firearm in the pocket of one’s overcoat, Inspector.”

Grayson blustered slightly and frowned. “Better safe than sorry.”

Loran chuckled and was about to say more until he saw Charlotte brush by the warden and Grayson and casually walk inside the cell behind Dawson. “Nice place you've got here,” she smiled playfully.

“What the… what is she doing here?” Loran blushed as Dawson knelt down on the floor in front of him to examine the wound, which now only showed a deep scar where the bullet had entered.

“Aww, I missed you too,” Charlotte smirked, sitting on the bed next to him.

“Alright, what do you want?” Loran demanded suddenly, regarding the two mice suspiciously. “I have a feeling this is more than just a social visit between old war comrades. Or old lovers,” he added under his breath.

Dawson raised his eyebrow at that and glanced at Charlotte briefly in surprise, but she only shrugged innocently. Pushing those questions aside, he got right to the point. “We only have a few questions for you.”

“I knew there was more when you didn't bring your medical bag,” Loran glanced outside the cell behind Grayson as if looking for someone. “What, the great detective is too famous now to come visit me? Or at least wishing me to 'get well soon’?”

“Basil has been abducted,” Dawson replied, feeling his heart shatter a little more hearing the words spoken out loud. “He's been missing for nearly three days now.”

“Is that so?” Loran shrugged and placed his shirt back on. “It was only a matter of time before some bloke had enough of his snooping around. Can't say I blame them. He was always sticking his big nose where he shouldn't.”

As he was about to put the cigarette back in his mouth Charlotte suddenly snatched it from his hand while also taking the pack out of his shirt pocket. “These things will kill you, you know.”

“H-Hey!” Loran exclaimed in distress, reaching for them. “Give them back.”

“Not until you tell us everything you know,” Charlotte replied sternly. Loran glared at her and folded his arms across his chest.

“Well that won't take long, because I have no bloody clue. Kind of difficult to kidnap someone if I'm in prison.”

“That's not all we want to ask you about,” Dawson replied more calmly, not wanting to upset the mouse. He briefly explained what had happened on the docks with the thug who had been assassinated. Loran only shrugged with an air of indifference.

“I’m not Mousedom's only assassin.”

“Perhaps, but you are the only one who could have made as difficult a shot as that.”

The ex-assassin chuckled. “I'm flattered, doctor, but you give me too much credit. I may be good, but not good enough to be in two places at once. You have your precious detective to thank for that remember?”

“Then who else is there?” Dawson prodded. “Give me some names, something we can work with.”

“No offense, doc, but what’s in it for me? I’m not getting out of here and there’s nothing you can offer me.” The smirk faded and Loran’s voice grew softer. “That life is over for me. I knew it was over when I couldn't pull the trigger to kill you.”

Dawson’s mouth dropped open and he found himself at a loss for words for several moments. “W-What? What do you mean, kill me?” he stuttered pointing at himself.

Loran glanced up briefly at the doctor before looking back down at the floor with a sad sigh. “The professor gave the order to have you killed to teach Basil a lesson. As Ratigan's second in command and best marksman, the task was given to me…”

……………………

June, 1897

The Professor drummed his fingers on the arm of his chair impatiently as he waited for the return of his assassin. Ever since the failed Diamond Jubilee job he had had to find a new hideout since police had taken over the one in the sewer. Now he hid out in an abandoned human mansion on the outskirts of London. It wasn’t much improvement over his last home in the sewers, and even worse without the gold and jewels he had stolen over the years. His entire empire was destroyed, forcing him to rebuild from the ground up. All thanks to that miserable, confounded detective. It had only been a few days since the incident, and as he recuperated from the wounds sustained in his fall from the clock tower plans of revenge were already being formed in his brilliant mind.

One of his other goons brought him a cup of camomile tea and Ratigan sighed before taking a sip, letting his shoulders relax as the liquid felt at least somewhat calming to his nerves. He looked over the rim of his teacup as a grey mouse entered the room hefting a large bag over his shoulder. “You’re late,” Ratigan remarked, setting the cup down and removing his pocket watch from an inside coat pocket.

“Sorry, Professor,” the grey mouse apologized as he approached the throne. “Seems like there’s more bobbies out on patrol tonight than usual after what happened with the Diamond Jubilee.”

Ratigan watched as the mouse grunted when he let the bag drop to the floor. “Bailey Acker?” he asked, inclining his head toward the bag.

“Dead,” The grey mouse replied. “Want the proof?” Ratigan waved him off and the mouse shrugged, watching as Ratigan called some others over to dispose of the body.

“And the detective? This murder should put him at a dead-end,” Ratigan said and offered a light to the assassin who had removed a pack of cigarettes from his coat pocket. However, before he could reply, Ratigan grimaced and waved the smoke from the mouse’s cigarette away. “Ugh. Loran, when do you start to smoke something else than this cheap gasper?”

The grey mouse, Oliver Loran, looked up and opened his mouth to reply, but again was interrupted.

“I ask the same, mate,” Oliver rolled his eyes and turned around to the second voice. It belonged to a brown-haired mouse with tan fur who sat on the edge of a fountain flowing with champagne nearby while cleaning his rifle. He chuckled and spoke with an Australian accent. "You smell like a bloody Bogan."

“It’s MARLS,” Oliver glared. “I have got used to them.”

“Well take it elsewhere,” Ratigan scowled. “I’m fighting a migraine and that smell is irritating to my already sensitive nose. In fact, all of you just get out,” the rat nearly growled, pinching the bridge of his nose irately.

“Right,” Oliver nodded. He looked around and glared at all the mice still present. “Well, you heard the Professor. Move out, the lot of you, now!”

A moment later everyone rushed about to fulfill the assassin’s orders, elbowing and shoving each other out of the way trying to leave the room as quickly as possible. Oliver Loran was not only Ratigan’s most skilled assassin, he was second in command next to the Professor himself. However, that didn’t make him any exception to carry out Ratigan’s orders, and he did not fancy being the next victim of the Professor’s wrath.

“Come along, dingo,” Oliver said to Jaeger as he walked by. The Australian glared at Oliver but quickly packed up his things throwing his rifle over his shoulder and followed. Jaeger was a skilled assassin as well, but Loran was more experienced and had always been better. The fact that Oliver was the most favored member of Ratigan’s criminal organization had left Jaeger with a bitter resentment toward the Englishmouse. He outranked Jaeger in every aspect, and far too often he had been embarrassed by trying to out-do Loran only to fail every time. When he first joined Ratigan, Jaeger honestly had no idea what exactly he was getting into, and if he could he would have left long ago. But fear of the Professor and the ominous threats to his loved ones as well as his own life kept Jaeger tied to him.

The two assassins parted ways to retire to bed and reconvened the next morning when Ratigan summoned them. When they arrived they found the Professor in a dark mood and watched silently as he read the contents of the morning paper. After a few minutes Ratigan growled and ripped the newspaper to shreds.

“That bloody detective is still on the track!” he yelled and threw the pieces into the air to let them fall down like snow at Christmas. Jaeger blew a piece that had fallen on his nose off.

“Maybe the dear assassin didn’t do his job right, eh, mate?” Jaeger smirked at the grey mouse standing beside him who scoffed while rolling his eyes.

“I killed the mouse. That it didn’t work is not my fault,” Oliver retorted and blew smoke out. He looked up at Ratigan as the rat walked around in circles around them. “What now then?”

“Shut up and let me think!” Ratigan snapped. Loran obediently fell quiet and waited patiently with his arms folded. He had spent enough years with the rat to know when to back off.

Jaeger however was not so wise. “Why not just kill the detective?” he suggested. “That would solve everything-” the Australian mouse was cut off as Ratigan suddenly grabbed the collar of his shirt and pulled him close.

“That would solve nothing!” Jaeger trembled slightly, staring with wide eyes at Ratigan’s bared teeth as the rat hissed in his face. “Death is too easy for Basil. I want him to suffer, I want to bring him to his knees begging for mercy before delivering the final blow. Killing him is not an option at this point. So do your job and leave the thinking to me.”

Ratigan released his hold and shoved Jaeger slightly, causing the startled mouse to stumble away. “Ugh, I can’t do my job unless I kill something!” he groaned frustrated, then his eyes widened and he closed his mouth wishing he had kept his mouth shut, but he realized his mistake too late. Ratigan turned with a growl and raised a hand to smack him. Feeling a sudden panic Jaeger raised his arm to shield his face, and in an attempt to redeem himself blurted out, “W-What about the chubby doctor?”

Ratigan froze mid-strike and blinked after a moment. “What?”

“T-The doctor,” Jaeger stammered, peeking out from behind his raised arms. “The new bloke who just moved into Baker Street with Basil. Can’t really say he is a hard target to miss, ya know?”

“You think I haven’t thought of that?!” Ratigan growled, causing Jaeger to flinch. “Why on earth would Basil care for a fat, slow, dimwitted, retired army doctor that he just met?”

“I-I don’t know, Professor,” Jaeger replied, feeling the words almost gush out as he tried to regain his boss’s favor so as not to be subject to the rat’s wrath. “I’m just sayin’, they’ve only known each other for a few days and they’re already like best mates.”

Ratigan frowned. “Basil doesn’t have friends.”

“The doc seems like more than just a friend,” Jaeger pointed out. “They’re solving cases together like some bloody crime-fighting duo.”

Ratigan paused for a few moments, seeming to think the matter over. “Jaeger, this may be the most half-intelligent thing you’ve said since you began working for me.”

The Aussie’s mouth practically fell open in shock. The Professor rarely praised him for anything so to get one small positive acknowledgment made him grin. “Thanks, Profess...” The smile quickly faded. “Wait, only the first?”

“Maybe… we could go after a family member of his instead.”

Both Jaeger and Ratigan turned to stare at Loran, who had spoken for the first time in several minutes. “Doesn’t he have a brother, or a sister maybe?” he added, looking almost nervous or uncertain as he fidgeted with the cigarette in his hand.

“He has both, but…” Ratigan paused, a wicked grin beginning to spread on his face. “But like Jaeger said, the doctor is apparently closer than family. And it's less work for you,” he added, causing Loran’s ears to perk up in surprise. “We know exactly where the doctor lives and where he works.”

“Work for _me_?” Oliver repeated a bit hesitantly.

“I’ll do it, Professor,” Jaeger interrupted eagerly. Smirking with a little pride he added, “The idea was mine, after all.”

“No,” Ratigan stated firmly. “There can be no mistakes with this. I would rather have my most trusted and experienced assassin behind the trigger than a wild gun like you.” While Jaeger fumed silently the Professor looked at Oliver raising an eyebrow suspiciously. “I have never seen you like this. You have never hesitated before. He is just another target like everyone else.” Oliver’s ears folded as he looked down at the floor until he saw Ratigan’s shadow fall over him as the rat stepped closer. “Is there a problem, Loran?”

“No, Professor.”

“Good. Now, both of you get out of my sight and await further instructions.”

“Yes, Professor,” the other two answered simultaneously and left Ratigan as he still paced about the room, conjuring up a plan inside that brilliant mind of his.

The air was tense as the English and the Australian mouse walked down the hallway. “Is the little mouse scared?” Jaeger smirked. Loran rolled his eyes.

“Shut up, dingo!” he growled back and slammed the door in the Aussie’s face. He leaned against the door and tilted his head back, letting out a sigh. A break. He needed a break, the gun for hire. Loran walked over and opened his closet, smiling a little when he saw all the pistols and rifles. “My friends…” He reached out for one of the pistols, thinking that it would be the easiest to conceal in the pocket of his coat at the ball tomorrow. The smile faded from his face as he removed the pistol and stared at it for a moment.

Shaking his head he shut the cabinet door and sat at a small desk against the wall beside his bed to clean and inspect the weapon to make sure he was fully prepared to do the job ahead. Once he was done he loaded it with the bullets. However the task proved to be difficult as he stared at his white-furred hands, surprised to see them shaking. Taking a deep breath he inserted the final bullet. The bullet meant for Dawson, the bullet that would kill an old comrade, a fellow brother in arms. A friend…

Loran put the gun down and gripped the edge of the desk. How on earth could he go through with this? One thing was clear; if he didn’t follow orders, Ratigan would have his head on a silver platter. If it had been anyone else it wouldn’t matter. Sad to say, he was used to this job. After his time in the war and all these years working for Ratigan, killing was almost second nature to him. But now? Loran sighed as he stood up and got ready for bed. But sleep eluded him with such thoughts plaguing his mind.

The next evening he and Jaeger made their way toward the palace to carry out the task. That night Basil and Dawson were to be honored by the Queen herself for preventing Ratigan taking over the kingdom during her Diamond Jubilee about a week prior. Inside the carriage Loran remained silent, lost in his own thoughts and trying to calm his nerves as he lit another cigarette. Jaeger glared at him, wrinkling his nose in disgust. MARLS. Ugh. In Jaeger's nostrils they almost made him feel sick. He rudely nudged Oliver's shoulder making the other mouse shake from the bump. "Put that out. It smells like crap."

"Since when have you been my mother, Jaeger? Suppose next you're telling me to make sure to put on clean underwear in the morning or eat my veggies," Oliver teased and blew a little into his face. Jaeger felt like puking.

"Either put it out or I'll put you out!"

"Like you have the balls to do that. Cover your nose, you big baby."

Luckily Jaeger didn’t have to hold his nose for long and sucked in a deep breath of fresh air once they jumped from the carriage as it stopped in front of the palace. Jaeger followed Loran, who presented their invitation to the gala (a forgery obtained by Ratigan of course), and they soon found themselves wandering among the other guests.

Jaeger pulled at the cravat around his neck feeling as if he were being choked. He wasn’t used to dressing up so fancy. He much preferred his old hat and coat, the more rugged attire he had worn for years. Oliver on the other hand didn’t mind as he was used to attending these sorts of things acting as Ratigan’s eyes and ears, going places he couldn’t go as the rat would be instantly recognized. Of course, the place was crawling with palace guards, but such was to be expected at an event like this where the Queen herself would be making an entrance.

As they slowly made their way through the crowd, Oliver was broken out of his thoughts when Jaeger elbowed him and inclined his head. Oliver followed his gaze toward the front where Basil of Baker Street bowed and shook hands with the Queen’s grandson and heir to the throne, Prince Edward. A lump grew in his throat when he saw Dawson standing beside Basil, smiling from ear to ear as he too shook hands with Mousedom’s Prince.

“Loran, did ya hear me?”

As Jaeger’s voice brought him back to reality Oliver shook his head. “Sorry, what?”

“I said quit daydreaming, we have work to do,” he snapped, glancing around as more and more spectators filled in around them.

“Right…” Oliver replied, looking around for a better vantage point. He made his way toward the front but soon realized that it would be impossible to get close with all the guards protecting the Prince. Looking around he found a little spot off to the side against the wall where there weren’t as many spectators and where he could hide just behind a huge column that supported the ceiling. Jaeger nodded at him and stood in front of the column, keeping watch while Oliver waited behind the pillar and examined his silencer underneath his suit to avoid suspicion. As the ceremony was about to begin he took a few deep breaths trying to calm his nerves.

 _You're Oliver Loran, the wild dog of assassinations. You leave a bit on your victims and go running into the night. That's who you are!_ Oliver thought to himself to gain some confidence but that confidence started to wane once he started aiming at Dawson as he and Basil took their places on the raised platform waiting for the Queen to arrive. Something within Oliver crumbled, his tough facade; the greatest of assassins felt tears swell in his eyes. _I can't...I just can't..._

_A target's a target, no exceptions, remember?_

_But..._

"I can't,” Oliver whispered, causing Jaeger to look at him over his shoulder. “I can't kill a friend, I just... N-Not him, not him..."

“Friend? You really are weak,” Jaeger scoffed. “Give me your bloody gun, Loran!"

Oliver struggled to keep Jaeger away from the gun in a lopsided adult version of keep away, and the silencer fell off during their scuffle. The guests were stirring and murmuring about the two men fighting over the gun until a shot went off striking the ceiling, ricocheting off the ends of the chandeliers. Basil's ears twitched with alert and he saw Oliver and Jaeger in a fight but Oliver held the grip.

Jaeger smirked when he noticed that Basil spotted them while Oliver's grip was growing weaker. "I'll tell you what, mate, why not give yourself up if you can't shoot a target?"

"Stop them!" Basil shouted, leaping over the railing and running toward them while Dawson stared wide-eyed. Oliver's heart leaped in fear when he heard the detective. The assassin’s eyes grew wide and quickly turned his head to Jaeger when he heard him chuckle. Loran could still feel the cold barrel of the pistol and with Jaeger holding the grip it was like everything was silenced. The Australian’s smirk grew wider when their noses were almost touching.

“Say goodbye, Pommie.”

The gunshot echoed through the room as Jaeger pulled the trigger. Oliver felt heat rise to his side, the overwhelming pain caught him off guard, and as his legs crumpled he felt his face meet the floor. It was burning with blood. He moaned in pain and slowly looked down noticing his hot fresh blood, staining his suit in a crimson red. Oliver groaned as he tried to endure it. That bullet was tiny but it felt like hell on his body. Jaeger let Loran still hold the barrel and slowly walked backward with the evil smirk still on his face as the other guests surrounded the bleeding mouse on the floor, disappearing into the crowd with Basil rushing after him.

Sharp ragged gasps escaped his throat as Oliver curled up in a ball, still grasping the wound. His vision dimmed slightly as he saw people standing over him, a shrill ringing in his ears making him feel even more disoriented.

“Step aside! I’m a doctor!” Dawson called as he pushed his way through. Kneeling down he didn’t even look at the injured mouse’s face, instead focusing on the alarming amount of blood seeping from the wound in his side as his medical instincts took over.

Oliver bit back a cry of pain and groaned through gritted teeth, clutching Dawson’s arm tightly. Dawson glanced down and noticed the white of the hand holding on to him. At first glance, it appeared that the mouse was wearing gloves, but even though they were coated with blood Dawson saw that it was the fur that was white. Something suddenly clicked in the doctor’s mind. He once knew a mouse like that, one with gray fur and white hands.

“Hello, captain.”

Oliver looked up wearily; no one had addressed him by his old title in years. Dawson was surprised to see what looked like fear and- what was that, guilt, remorse?- in Loran's blue eyes, and he watched the mouse struggle to regain his composure. “H-Hello, doctor,” Oliver finally managed to smile a little through the pain.

Dawson looked as if he would say more but was interrupted when Basil elbowed his way through the crowd. “He got away,” Basil growled frustrated in answer to Dawson’s questioning look. The detective glanced down and suddenly froze when he saw the mouse on the floor. “You…” Oliver’s ears lowered, his heart beginning to beat faster as Basil turned to Inspector Grayson, who stood nearby. “Arrest him, Inspector.”

Dawson looked up at Basil shocked. “What? Why?!”

Basil returned the look with one of annoyance. “Because he’s a criminal.”

“What? No, not him!”

“He’s a killer, Dawson! A cold-blooded murderer. And none other than Ratigan’s own right hand, his second in command.”

Oliver’s ears folded and he looked away shamefully as Dawson stared at him in shock. “I don’t believe it.”

“Why don’t you ask him then?” Basil prodded. “No doubt that bullet inside him was meant for me. Quite bold of you to try to assassinate me in public like this rather than a quiet kill at Baker Street. But that’s the point, isn’t it? The perfect opportunity to exact revenge for the Professor’s death in front of all of Mousedom.”

Dawson stared with his mouth agape. “Is this true?” 

As much as he wanted to wipe that look off of Basil’s face and tell him just how wrong he was, Oliver looked down. He couldn’t bear to admit that he was supposed to kill Dawson. “It’s true.”

Basil smiled grimly. “Oliver Loran, or should I say, formerly Captain Loran. He served in the-”

“Afghanistan war,” Dawson interrupted as he worked to stanch the bleeding in the wound. “I know.”

This time Basil was the one to look surprised, but only for a moment. “Ah, you served together. I see. Then I suppose this isn’t the first time you’ve tended his wounds.” Dawson glanced at Oliver but the gray mouse wouldn’t even look at him. Basil watched the two ex-army mice for a moment, then awkwardly cleared his throat. “It’s too bad your associate got away. But no matter. With your boss’s demise, it’s only a matter of time before the entire organization falls.”

……

Silence filled the cell as Loran finished his tale. “The rest you know,” he said quietly. “I was arrested, put on trial, and sentenced to life in prison. So... here I am.”

Dawson still sat in shock for a few moments. “Why didn’t you tell me that night that I was the target instead of Basil?” he finally asked quietly.

Oliver folded his ears and looked down. “I suppose I was just ashamed. I’ve killed many over the years; some defending myself and my country in war, and some murdered in cold blood. I have never hesitated to pull that trigger until you were the one in my crosshairs. I just froze. I couldn’t disobey Ratigan’s order, but I couldn’t kill you. Not you. Not my old comrade.”

Loran paused and a few moments of silence followed. He cleared his throat before continuing. “To everyone around it appeared that the gun went off in the struggle. But I saw the look in Jaeger’s eyes when he pulled the trigger. He aimed to kill. If you hadn’t been there to treat me, I believe he would have succeeded. He was always jealous of my position and closeness to Ratigan, he wanted my job. I guess he got it.”

“He didn't have it for long. He was captured about two weeks later, along with most of the rest of Ratigan's followers, and was eventually executed for his crimes.” Oliver looked up curiously as Dawson trailed off, a strange look coming over his face as something seemed to click for him. “Now wait just a moment. You said Ratigan gave the order to have me killed. He couldn't have, as he fell to his death nearly a week prior.”

Dawson watched Loran’s reaction closely, his suspicion growing as the ex-assassin looked uneasy. However he carefully erased any emotion from his face and simply shrugged. “Posthumous revenge, like Basil said. If in the event the plan was to fail and end with the professor's own death, then the order was to take the life of someone Basil cared for, making Basil suffer before killing the mouse himself.”

“But why me?” Dawson prodded. “At that time Basil and I had just met. I had only known him for a few days.”

“And yet you became close in that short amount of time, right? Close enough that you became flatmates within two days of meeting.” Dawson glanced down as he couldn’t argue with that. “Everyone knows that Basil's not the easiest bloke to get along with, and the fact that you were so quick to move in with him shows just how chummy the two of you had already become. You don't have to be as clever as Ratigan or Basil to make that deduction.”

“You're right.” Oliver stared nervously as Dawson stood up, his shadow falling across him. “And I also don't have to be as clever as them to tell that you're lying. You see, although I may be known as Basil's bumbling sidekick, I can assure you that I have dealt with enough criminals over the years to know when a person is lying. The little pause before you answer my questions while you carefully think of a deceptive answer; the excessive swallowing and clearing your throat; not to mention the nervous twitches of your ear and that you’ve been chewing the inside of your lip for the past five minutes-”

“Because she took my cigarettes and I’m going crazy!” Loran interjected pointing an accusing finger at Charlotte but snapped his mouth shut when Dawson leaned down directly in his face.

“-and the fact that you will not make eye contact with me anymore.”

An uneasy silenced settled once more, all eyes on the two ex-army mice. Loran opened his mouth to retort, but could find no words to say and simply closed it again, looking down at the floor refusing to meet Dawson’s gaze as the guilt he’d been carrying for years weighed down heavily on him. The doctor was surprised to see him flinch as he placed a gentle but firm hand on his shoulder. Loran chanced a look up at Dawson and froze when he saw the concern, and even fear, in his eyes and heard it in his voice as he spoke.

“My colleague- no, my friend, my best friend’s life is on the line. I know it was years ago but as fellow comrades in arms, tell me the truth. Did Ratigan survive the fall?”

Everyone waited with bated breath as Oliver thought of how to answer the question. “The Professor is- was,” he quickly corrected himself, “many things, but not immortal.”

“Then why did we never find a body? Or even any evidence that his body made contact with the ground at all?”

“It would be best for you to just cooperate and tell us what you know,” Grayson pointed out.

“I don’t know jack squat because I’ve been locked in this cell for the last three years!” Loran nearly shouted, becoming more agitated. He noticed the way Grayson’s hand went to the gun in his coat, along with a warning look from the Warden, and sighed wearily. “Look, I’ve already said too much. There’s a reason why people are afraid to even utter the Professor’s name, even in death. I’m sorry about what happened to the detective, I truly am. We may have been on opposite sides of the law but I never really hated him. He was more of a nuisance than anything. I’m sorry, but I can’t help you find him. Like I said, that life is far behind me, and I’ll spend whatever I have left of it paying for my crimes.”

Several moments passed but it was clear they would get no more answers. “Right then, let’s get out of here,” the Inspector said walking out of the cell and down the hallway. Charlotte followed after tossing Loran’s box of cigarettes back to him. As soon as he had the box back he opened it to light one for himself but groaned frustrated when he saw that she had taken them all leaving the box empty.

Dawson looked at him imploringly one last time but knew he could get nothing else out of the ex-assassin, who glanced at him sadly before looking down at the floor. Dawson turned to follow the others but turned back when Loran suddenly groaned in pain and grasped his side where the old bullet wound was. As he stepped back in the cell the warden began to protest, but Dawson insisted to look at the wound one last time. The warden nodded and stood a little way from the door, giving the two a few moments of privacy. When Dawson leaned down to look at Loran’s side he was surprised when the gray mouse grabbed him and pulled him closer, whispering in his ear.

“Jaeger.”

“What?” Dawson stammered.

“You wanted the name of another assassin. Start with Erik Jaeger.”

“Jaeger? But I told you Jaeger was executed-”

“Ratigan had friends in high places. Check up on Jaeger. That’s all I can tell you. I’ve said too much already. Now get out,” Loran growled loudly so that the Warden would hear and make Dawson leave, shoving Dawson away slightly.

“B-But-!”

“I said get out!” Oliver shouted, causing the Warden to walk in and point his baton at him.

“That’s enough Loran,” the warden warned sternly. “Doctor, this visit is over.”

Despite his protests Dawson was escorted out with the others, and shortly after were in a carriage on their way back to Scotland Yard. They were all quiet, each mouse lost in their own thoughts mulling over the events of the evening. Dawson replayed the conversation over and over in his mind, wondering what Loran meant. Surely he wasn’t suggesting that Jaeger could possibly be alive? And from the way he talked so could…!

Maybe… just maybe… Basil had really been onto something about Ratigan surviving the fall. And if on the extremely thin chance that was so, he couldn’t bear the thought of Basil being in the clutches of that rat. What tortures he could be facing...

…………

Basil groaned as he finally came to again. He slowly rose up on his elbows and was surprised to find that he was no longer restrained; meaning that this would be the perfect opportunity to explore his prison. However, he soon realized that wouldn’t happen as he only had just enough strength to sit upright. His head felt so incredibly heavy, and touching it gingerly he felt dried blood from the wound on his left temple from when he had first been abducted. As the room began to spin it became painfully clear that standing to his feet was out of the question for now. It all felt so odd to him, the sensation of his normally sharp mind feeling sluggish and unable to operate at full capacity. It quite unnerved him, and no matter how hard he tried to stifle it fear began to build up inside sending a chill down his spine. He took several deep breaths trying to calm his shaken nerves. He needed to rest, to regain full awareness of his senses so that he could find some way to escape.

As he sat there Basil rubbed his arm absentmindedly, faintly aware of a familiar sharp pain in his forearm, but before he could ponder it any further his thoughts were interrupted when he suddenly noticed a dark shape on the floor near him. His heart raced at finding out that he was not alone. He squinted trying to discern what or who it was through the darkness, but his blurry vision made it too difficult to make out. Despite feeling a growing sense of horror Basil found himself drawn to it and crawled along the floor as he was too weak to stand on his injured leg.

As he came closer Basil realized that the shadow was actually two small shapes lying on the floor. Something screamed in his mind to stop, that he didn’t want to see whatever it was. Yet he found himself moving towards it almost out of his own control. Whether they were dead or not he wasn’t sure he wanted to know, but he carefully placed his hand on the nearest mouse’s shoulder and turned the body over.

Basil gasped and fell back as he saw that the mouse was indeed deceased. But what was worse was that the face staring up at him was Louise, his very own niece. As he looked closer he saw that the second shape lying beside her was her little brother Arthur. Basil’s senses were reeling, his powers of deduction telling him all too clearly what had happened. The damp fur and clothes, the rigidness of their bodies; all pointing to how they drowned, just as Ratigan had threatened.

“I’m sorry,” Basil whispered as he gently reached out and caressed their heads, tears springing to his eyes feeling his heart break. What horror they must have gone through as they died. They were only children. They didn’t deserve this. “I am so, so sorry…”

_"Sorry isn’t good enough."_

Basil jumped startled, looking around for the source of the voice. Through the blurriness in his vision, he could only see dark menacing shapes seeming to linger in the shadows. However, although he couldn’t see him Basil knew exactly who the voice belonged to.

“Damn you, Ratigan!” Basil suddenly yelled, bruising his fist as he slammed it onto the hard floor. “Damn you…” he repeated brokenly as the tears finally escaped, streaming down his face while hanging his head in sorrow.

 _"Who’s fault is it really, Basil?_ the voice replied, having a strange, distorted, almost demonic tone to it. _"After all, you promised."_

Basil’s breath came more shallow as he lifted his head, staring at the dead children as the scene replayed itself in his mind’s eye.

_"You promised them that they would be safe. Now they’re dead because of you."_

“N-No,” Basil stammered shaking his head. “No, I…” Guilt flooded Basil as he realized that the voice was right. If it hadn’t been for him, they would still be alive. Basil felt himself begin to tremble as he slowly backed away from the bodies of his niece and nephew. “I-I didn’t mean to-”

Basil stopped as his back bumped into something behind him, and when he turned he cried out startled as he recognized the bodies of his sister Bryna and her husband William, blood pouring from the slits in their necks.

“No,” Basil gasped, crawling backward as he stared while more tears appeared in his eyes. His right hand slipped on something and he fell, painfully cracking his elbow on the hard floor. When he lifted his hand to see what had made him fall he stared with wide eyes as blood coated his hand and arm. He quickly rolled over on his stomach to get up, but when he lifted his head Basil screamed as his face was only centimeters away from that of his brother Byron, the older mouse’s eyes clouded over as the blood Basil had slipped on poured from a bullet wound in his head.

Frantically Basil scrambled to his feet, nearly hyperventilating as he looked about in horror at the rest of the bodies littered about the room haphazardly: Mrs. Judson, Flaversham, and his daughter Olivia laid nearby in pools of blood.

 _"Dead,"_ came the voice again. _"All of them dead, and it's all your fault."_

“No,” Basil shook his head again, taking a few steps backward. He grunted as he tripped over something and fell again. When he raised himself a choked sob escaped his throat as he saw his parents, the smell of smoke and burnt flesh filling his nostrils as he stared, their bodies nearly unrecognizable because of the fire that had killed them over a decade ago.

_"Everyone you ever loved…"_

“N-No,” Basil whispered as he stumbled backward again. “Please, no.” His heart pounded so loudly it seemed to echo in his ears. His injured leg burned with pain as he limped about, but he glanced around the room frantically, looking for some way, any way, to escape this hell, grunting and feeling bruises form as he stumbled into walls. Yet no matter where he turned he couldn’t avoid meeting the faces of the dead. His vision was still so blurry that he didn’t see the shape in from of him until he ran into it, and another scream ripped from his throat as he stared up at the body Inspector Grayson, his neck bent at an unnatural angle as he hung from a noose tied to the ceiling. He backed away from the Inspector but the searing pain in his leg made him stumble and fall again, and unfortunately this time he fell on top of one of the bodies. Feeling himself begin to panic he scrambled upright again, but suddenly froze as he looked into the golden-brown eyes of the woman beneath him.

“Charlie,” Basil gasped, staring in horror as deep lacerations covered her body as if she had been mauled to death, just as the victims in his latest case. “I’m sorry,” he whispered, tears falling as he squeezed his eyes shut while hugging her to his chest tightly. “I’m so sorry, Charlotte.”

Basil trailed off as a dull thud sounded close to him, and his heart nearly stopped as he stared in shock when he instantly recognized the last body.

“No.”

Basil frantically scrambled over to it, grunting as he turned the body over to see the face. He already knew the truth, but his eyes refused to believe it until he was staring into the lifeless eyes of the closest friend he had ever known.

“Dawson,” Basil breathed. “No… no, not you too, not you!” Basil held his head in his hands as he felt his whole world collapse around him. A noise between a sob and a scream tore from his throat as the realization sank in that everything and everyone he knew and loved had been destroyed.

And it was all his fault.

………………

The Professor watched from a dark corner of the cell, hidden in the shadows. A fiendish smile of delight spread across his face as he watched Basil fall apart, his sanity slowly but surely unraveling at the seams. In reality, there were no dead bodies. He and Basil were the only two in the room. But the few words he spoke to Basil combined with the drug that had been administered only a few minutes before he awoke contributed to Basil’s hallucinations. His plan to break the great mouse detective was working even more brilliantly than he had imagined.

“You’re a murderer, Basil,” Ratigan whispered sinisterly, causing the detective to look up with fear and shock in his eyes. “And what happens to murders? They _hang_.”

Ratigan watched as Basil began to panic and stumble about the room so much that he began running into the walls trying to get away from the voice and imaginary corpses. He frowned as he noticed bruises and cuts forming on Basil’s body at the force. Fearing that he would injure himself further, Ratigan motioned for Jaeger, who stood watch at the door at top of the stairs.

“Restrain him before he ends up killing himself,” Ratigan ordered.

Jaeger nodded, and a moment later was struggling to wrestle Basil into the chains hanging from the ceiling. Basil still couldn’t see well, and in his mind’s eye, he only saw Jaeger as a dark menacing shadow and imagined the chains wrapping around him dragging him away to be hanged as the voice had threatened.

“No!” Basil cried out desperately. “No, let me go, please! Please have mercy!”

“Hold still and shut up!” Jaeger growled struggling to hold onto the mouse. Basil still thrashed about so wildly that his elbow caught Jaeger in the jaw. The Australian mouse growled as he tasted blood, so he took the butt of his pistol and hit Basil in the head with it, causing the mouse to finally go limp. Panting tiredly Jaeger was finally able to get the chains on Basil’s wrists, which left him kneeling on the floor as his arms were restrained above his head.

Wiping the blood from his cut lip with his sleeve Jaeger went back to the other side of the room where Ratigan was standing. “It'd be a hell of a lot easier to just kill the bloke and be done with it,” he muttered grumpily.

“That will come in due time,” Ratigan replied, glancing at his prisoner one last time before turning with a flourish of his cape as he ascended the stairs.

“What exactly are we waiting for, anyway?” Jaeger asked, and a chill went down his spine as Ratigan chuckled darkly.

“We are waiting for an audience.”

Jaeger tilted his head at the cryptic response but simply shrugged it off as he followed the rat through the hallway. “Well, what now, Professor?”

“Must I explain everything to you dimwits?” the Professor sighed exasperatedly. Jaeger’s ears folded at the insult but he knew better than to talk back. “Phase one was giving Basil a case to solve by killing his past clients,” Ratigan explained. “Phase two was convincing Basil that the murders are his own fault by stripping away his sanity. And now,” Ratigan said straightening his tie, “we begin phase three...”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oliver Loran is my friend NightMagican's OC and is used with her permission. She helped me write most of this chapter, especially Oliver's dialogue and the flashback scene ^_^


	17. Confessions

As soon as they had finished talking with Loran at the prison, Dawson, Charlotte, and Grayson went back to Scotland Yard just a few hours before dawn. Days before, the Inspector had sent his wife and child away into the country on the pretense of visiting relatives; but in fact, it was to protect them in case something were to happen to Grayson himself since the target of the recent murders had all been linked to Basil in some way. So while Grayson sent a wire to check on the safety of his family, Dawson and Charlotte had taken refuge in his office. However, almost as soon as they had sat down to rest both mice dozed off since it had been well over 24 hours since either had gotten any sleep. Dawson awoke a few hours later but shot upright in alarm when he saw the afternoon sunlight streaming in through the cracks of the blinds covering the window.

“Blast it,” Dawson muttered, rubbing his face with his hands. How many hours had been wasted while Basil was still in danger? He glanced up when he felt a hand gently touch his shoulder.

“It’s alright, doctor,” Charlotte said softly, offering him a warm cup of coffee. “We need the rest if we’re going to put our heads together and think of a way to save Basil.”

“Right,” Dawson sighed dejectedly as he sipped his coffee. He glanced over where Inspector Grayson sat at his desk pouring over the files from the case, dark circles under his eyes from lack of sleep as well. Charlotte took a seat beside Dawson on the sofa sipping her own cup of coffee as well, but as his mind raced with questions Dawson eventually stood up and began pacing the room restlessly, events from the past few days replaying over and over in his mind.

“What do you know about Erik Jaeger?” he asked suddenly, directing the question towards Charlotte. The lady looked up from her cup and shrugged.

“Not much really. He… made advances toward me but I was with Oliver at the time and was never interested in him. He came across to me as brutish, wild, a bit uncivilized. The Professor always hired that type, despite being a posh gentleman himself.”

Dawson nodded, recalling his own brief encounter with the assassin. When captured he writhed and snarled like a caged animal. He thought back to the assassination on the docks and his last words with Loran. “Do you think his execution could have been staged?”

A look of doubt crossed her face. “Jaeger was not the brightest of rodents. He was sly and cunning, but from what little I heard he had a rough past and never received a formal education. He’s simply not smart enough to concoct a plan like that on his own. So if his execution was staged, then he had to have had help.”

Dawson nodded in agreement. “Fabricating one’s death is no mean feat. Only the most intelligent of minds could orchestrate such an elaborate scheme as that.”

“Someone such as a Napoleon of Crime.”

“Exactly.”

The two mice turned around when they heard Grayson scoff. “What, surely you’re not suggesting the Professor himself,” the Inspector chuckled, but the smile soon faded when he saw that they were serious. He stared at them before gesturing into the air and exclaiming, “Do you even hear yourselves? No one can fall from over ten stories high and just get up and walk away!”

“This is Ratigan we’re talking about, Inspector,” Dawson retorted evenly as he walked over to the desk and leaned with his hands on the edges. “He was no ordinary rodent. If anyone could cheat death itself it would be him!”

Grayson grunted in frustration. “He was also not immortal!”

“We never found a body, remember?” Dawson insisted, recalling the similar conversation about Ratigan with Basil just a couple of days ago. “Basil himself insisted upon it, but like everyone else I doubted him. I convinced him to leave the matter alone.” Dawson’s voice became more anguished as he went on, and suddenly he brought his fist down hard upon the desk. “If I had only listened then he wouldn't be in danger right now!”

The other two mice jumped at the violent reaction out of the normally reserved doctor. Grayson’s scowl deepened and he opened his mouth, but before he could retort Charlotte stepped in. “Alright boys, settle down,” she said slightly stern, putting her hand on Dawson’s arm in an attempt to calm him. “It’s been a long night and tensions and emotions are high, but we need to take a step back and breathe. If not for anyone else’s sake then for Basil’s. The clock is ticking, and we need to act fast if we’re going to save him before it’s too late. So let’s pull ourselves together and think.”

The other two mice stared at her for a moment, but after taking a deep breath Dawson nodded. He tried to smile in thanks, and she squeezed his arm in reassurance. While he resumed his pacing of the room, Grayson tapped a pencil on the desk almost impatiently. “What we need is a plan. Basil could be anywhere, and if we’re not sure who took him then how do we even begin to look?” The brown-furred mouse rubbed his forehead and groaned as another thought occurred to him. “Blast it all, and not to mention there’s the bloody coronation ball tonight. Most of the force will be there to patrol the palace, I can’t spare any hands to go gallivanting God knows where in search of-”

“What did you just say?”

Grayson looked confused when Dawson interrupted him. “Coronation ceremony. Tonight. It’s been the talk of Mousedom for months now. There will be plenty of guards but Scotland Yard is also expected to…”

Grayson’s words faded as a realization dawned on Dawson. Flashbacks from the very case that had sparked his partnership with Basil three years ago replayed in his mind, the words echoing in his brain as the memory was still just as fresh in his mind if it had happened yesterday. The mad rat, bedecked in full regal attire, towering over all in the audience as his maniacal laughter rang throughout the palace.

_“I have the power._

_“I am supreme._

_“This is MY kingdom!”_

“Of course,” Dawson remarked, causing Grayson’s ramblings to go quiet. “It all makes sense.”

“What does?” the Inspector asked.

“Don’t you see? The murders, the prison break, Basil’s kidnapping? It’s all connected.” When the two mice continued to stare Dawson went on. “After the Flaversham case, most if not all of Ratigan’s criminal organization was torn apart. Therefore, if he did indeed survive the fall, then he would need to rebuild his organization from the ground up. Taking in new criminals would be a fairly simple task in of itself, but why not set the most seasoned criminals free again?”

“The escaped prisoners from Dartmoor,” Charlotte remarked as she too began to connect the pieces together.

“Precisely.” Dawson nodded.

Grayson still wasn’t entirely convinced. “If Ratigan is alive as you suggest, then what about the murders?” he asked skeptically.

“Revenge, and a distraction,” Charlotte spoke up this time. “Just to mess with Basil’s head. Killing his past clients would be sure to throw Basil off. I mean, you both saw how upset Basil has been lately over these murders.”

“Exactly,” Dawson agreed. “In our last conversation together, he was of the same opinion that the motive in all this was revenge.” The doctor’s ears folded sadly. “And he was very upset that he hadn’t made much progress in the case. He blamed himself. He also talked about the possibility of Ratigan’s survival, and it sounded as though he almost believed it himself.”

Charlotte crossed her arms and shuddered. “I can’t imagine what torture that rat would put Basil through, i-if he hasn’t already killed him…”

‘No, Ratigan wouldn’t just kill him outright,” Dawson interjected. “He’s far too dramatic for that. He would want to make a scene. And in addition to defeating Basil, Ratigan’s ultimate plan was to rule the kingdom. And now that he has reassembled his army of thugs and ruffians, what more perfect chance would he have to take over the kingdom than to reveal himself and destroy Basil in front of all of Mousedom... than at the Prince’s coronation ceremony?”

……………………

That evening the trio reconvened at Buckingham Palace. Grayson had his hands full making sure all his men were ready and in their places for the proceedings, while Dawson and Charlotte took a less conspicuous means of entry in order to avoid running into trouble with any disguised guards who might recognize them and alert their boss. By the time they reached the auditorium, the ceremony had already begun, with Prince Edward standing on the platform in the middle of making a short speech. As they settled into their hiding spot, Dawson watched the young royal with growing concern. He had only met the Prince once before when he and Basil had been thanked personally for saving the Queen during the Diamond Jubilee. But the normally smiling, sociable, outgoing Prince looked worried and almost scared as he stood there tense and rigid while addressing his subjects.

“I regret to inform you that my grandmother, Her Majesty, is… u-under the weather, so to speak,” Prince Edward stammered, gulping noticeably as he glanced slightly behind him. “And so she was unable to attend tonight’s proceedings.”

Concerned murmurs ran through the crowd of onlookers. “Something’s wrong,” Charlotte remarked, and Dawson’s grip tightened on his revolver.

“I am young and inexperienced, and unfit to rule such a fine kingdom,” Edward continued solemnly. “So with a heavy heart, I… I-I must respectfully decline my right to the crown.”

Exclamations of shock ran through the spectators, and Edward cleared his throat to gain their attention again. “However, there is another, one much more knowledgeable and better suited for the task, that the Queen has appointed to take my place. And so I introduce you to your new King, his Majesty... Padraic Vincent Ratigan.”

Shrieks and outcries of fear rang throughout the chamber as the Professor himself stepped out from behind the curtain, dressed with the finest robe and the golden crown already sitting atop his head. Right on cue some of the officers from Scotland Yard immediately stepped forward to arrest the rat, but as soon as the first withdrew his gun he was shot by Jaeger, who had stepped out of the shadows and now stood near Ratigan acting as a sort of bodyguard. “Nobody bloody move, unless you want to end up like him,” Jaeger shouted while scores of palace guards surrounded the crowd and blocked all exits. Even Grayson himself was forced onto his knees with hands behind his head as a guard confiscated his revolver and held him and his men at gunpoint.

“Do you think Ratigan would kill the Queen?” Charlotte asked tentatively, her anger growing as she saw guards pushing and shoving frightened citizens around trying to keep them contained.

“I wouldn’t doubt it,” Dawson nodded, although his eyes were scanning the scene for only one mouse. “But I would say it’s more likely he’s probably holding her hostage to assure the Prince’s cooperation-” He trailed off as another warning shot rang out, causing the crowd to finally quiet down as Ratigan peered at them with amusement.

“You seem surprised to see me,” Ratigan chuckled, a dark grin spreading across his features. “Did you really expect that I would be defeated so easily? Oh, I see it in your expressions now, you’re just waiting for your hero to swoop down and save the day again.” His grin widened as he could barely contain his delight. “Waiting for me to once again be outsmarted by that second-rate detective, Basil.” The rat began to snicker with delight. “Basil of Baker Street.” Ratigan almost doubled over as he laughed, his maniacal laughter filling the chamber.

Two guards stepped out from behind the curtain, half dragging another mouse with them. The mouse’s wrists were bound behind his back in cuffs, and a black hood covered his face.

“Well, here is your great detective,” Ratigan sneered as he shoved the mouse forward onto his knees while jerking the hood off of his head roughly. Everyone gasped and exclaimed in horror as the mouse was revealed to be Basil himself. Dawson nearly jumped out of his hiding spot, but feeling Charlotte hold him back he grunted in frustration as he had almost blown their cover. At least he now knew Basil was indeed alive. However, even at this distance, he could see blood and bruises covering the poor mouse’s body. Dawson gripped his revolver tightly, his mind racing as he tried to come up with a plan of attack.

Temporarily blinded by the sudden light, Basil blinked hard as his eyes adjusted. He had only been slightly conscious for most of the day, feeling himself being moved but too drugged to be able to sense what was going on. The effects of the drug still lingered in his system and shadows danced at the edges of his vision, but as he looked around, he didn’t like what he saw. The frightened crowd cringing away from Ratigan while staring at him with pleading eyes. Basil’s ears folded and he hung his head ashamedly. What could he do? It was his fault this was happening in the first place.

Ratigan’s voice snapped him back to reality. “I have long been ruler of the world beneath your feet. But now the time has come to extend my rule to the surface. The turn of the century will bring about a new era, one with me as your king. And for my first decree…” Basil couldn’t help trembling as he felt Ratigan’s glare directed toward him. “I sentence Basil of Baker Street to death.”

Basil’s head snapped up in shock as more exclamations and cries rang from the crowd, echoing through the room. “You can’t do that!” Prince Edward exclaimed, unable to hold his tongue any longer and straining against two guards who grabbed him when he stepped forward.

“King,” Ratigan retorted with a sneer, pointing to the crown on his head.

Edward’s ears folded and he was all too aware of the threat to his grandmother’s life, but he still fought against the mice holding him in place. “King or not, there are laws in place for a reason! That crown does not give you the right to kill an innocent mouse!”

“Oh, I would say he is far from innocent. Isn't that right, Basil?” The mouse flinched slightly but gave no answer. Ratigan chuckled as the crowd became quiet again. “Yes, Mousedom’s very own hero has some skeletons in the closet of his own. Why don’t you tell them, Basil? Tell them your dirty little secret.”

“Secret? Mr. Basil, what is he talking about?” Edward demanded, looking concerned at Basil. The detective only trembled, unable to answer as he glanced back and forth from the Prince to the crowd as all eyes were on him.

“Allow me to elaborate,” Ratigan offered, making a great show of clearing his throat to regain order as he paced slowly in front of Basil. “You’re all aware of the recent string of murders in London, right? Well, did it ever occur to any of you simple minds that each and every single one of the victims was a past client of Basil’s?” Ratigan grinned satisfied as murmurs spread through the audience. “That’s right. And of course, the ‘great mouse detective’ investigated each crime as always. Now, the first murder occurred several months ago. Why do you suspect Basil hasn’t solved the case yet and the murderer still hasn’t been found? Hmm?”

There was silence as no one dared answer.

“Oh, he knows all too well who the culprit is, don’t you, Basil?”

The mouse in question still sat rooted to the spot, staring at the rat with growing fear in his emerald eyes.

“So why don’t you tell them? Let’s settle the case once and for all. Tell them who is responsible for these innocent lives, your own client’s deaths.”

The entire room waited with bated breath as Basil still continued to stare, his heart racing so he was sure everyone in the room could hear it thumping in his chest. Images of his friends’ and clients’ dead bodies flashed through his mind, nearly causing tears to spring to his eyes.

“I-I am.”

Other than a few gasps of shock no one dared speak a word for several moments. Dawson waited for Basil to say something, anything, to challenge or defy this monster; but the broken mouse only kneeled there in silence. He could hardly believe that Basil would confess to crimes he didn’t commit, but there was no telling what that rat had done to him to bring him down so low. Dawson had known Basil long enough to know that he had completely shut down. His eyes were filled with the same emptiness that had been in them during the Flaversham case when Ratigan had humiliated him in front of the mob. He was so numb from the shock and humiliation that the will to fight or to even live was gone.

“Can you believe it?” Ratigan remarked, unable to help a few chuckles of glee escaping as he watched the last pieces of Basil’s mind fall apart and shatter. “Painted me out to be the villain all these years, when he himself has innocent blood on his hands.” Basil flinched as Ratigan came in front of him and stooped down, grabbing his chin and forcing him to look up. “I told you you would pay, Brettman,” he snarled, only quietly enough for the two of them to hear. Basil trembled in the rat’s grasp until he finally released him. “Let’s not waste any more time,” he said more loudly, and giving a nod to Jaeger he watched as the assassin and a few other guards quickly erected a makeshift gallows that Ratigan had had built hours prior just especially for the occasion. The crowd began to grow nervous again, shouts of outrage and fear ringing out as the guards kept them in check, forcing them to watch.

“Oh my God,” Charlotte gasped as Basil was dragged to the gallows. “Doctor, he’s going to kill him! What do we do?!”

Dawson watched horrified as Jaeger looped the rope over Basil’s neck. “Any final words, detective?” Ratigan asked mockingly. The mouse still stood there in shock, staring listlessly ahead as his mind had completely shut down. He was going to be hung like a common criminal in front of the very people he had fought most of life for trying to help. All he wanted was to help, to be a hero to them as his father had been. How miserably he had failed.

“I guess not,” Ratigan snickered, the chuckles growing into laughter once again. The Professor lifted his hand while a guard waited for the signal to pull the lever that would send Basil to his death, a few agonizing moments stretching on as Ratigan savored the moment of his foe’s defeat for as long as he could. Once his laughter had died down a look of pure hatred was all that was left on his face.

“And so ends Basil of Baker Street.”

Ratigan’s hand dropped, and the lever was pulled.


	18. End of the Line

Barely before Dawson could even think, he was galvanized into action. It was a long shot- quite literally and figuratively- as there was a significant distance between himself and the platform upon which Basil stood. But it was a chance he was more than willing to take. He might not be able to save Basil’s life, but he’d be damned if he didn’t try. An anguished shriek tore from Charlotte’s throat beside him, mingling with the horried cries from the frightened crowd that echoed through the air as the platform disappeared under Basil’s feet.

In that split second, Dawson fired.

Military instincts and surgical precision learned through countless hours in operating rooms and war zones combined with the immense sense of urgency to save his friend’s life steadied the doctor’s hand. As the noose tightened around Basil’s neck the bullet tore through the rope, severing the fibers enough that Basil’s body weight caused them to snap as the rope grew taught.

After that, pandemonium ensued.

As Basil fell to the floor, Inspector Grayson used the opportunity to elbow one of the distracted guards in the face and confiscate his gun. As his officers followed suit and turned on their captors, some of the spectators were galvanized into action and came to their aid. Shots rang out through the auditorium, with many falling dead or injured in the chaos. Charlotte had already sprinted toward the platform and Dawson struggled to catch up to her, elbowing and fighting his way through the crowd, throwing punches where need be to conserve his bullets as much as possible.

Under the platform, Basil grunted painfully as his body hit the floor hard. Even though the bullet had severed the rope, it had tightened around his neck just enough to restrict his breathing. That combined with the impact as his body hit the ground knocking what little air he had left him gasping desperately for breath. Instinctively, he tried to reach up to remove the rope from his neck but grew panicked as he was reminded that his hands were shackled behind his back. Unable to get the air he needed, Basil felt his world growing dark.

A few moments later Basil felt someone trying to remove the noose from his neck. As soon as it was loose enough Basil inhaled sharply and coughed, his body shuddering as he fought to regain his breath. Not long after, the person succeeded in removing the noose. Nearly losing consciousness left his vision blurry, and Basil flinched slightly at not knowing who was touching him. He could hear the person speaking but couldn’t make out the words through a dull ringing in his ears.

More shapes loomed in front of him, and soon Basil felt himself being lifted off the floor and carried. He simply hung limp, unable to even find the strength to struggle. His heart pounded at the thought of the guards carrying him away, and he shuddered to think what Ratigan would do to him next since his plan to kill him publically had been interrupted.

As time passed, the ringing in his ears faded to a dull thud as his head was absolutely throbbing. The voices became slightly more clear as the gunshots and yelling faded away, but not much was being said as the primary focus seemed to be to escape from the chaos as fast as possible. Basil opened his eyes trying to get a glimpse of the captors but had to squeeze them shut again as he felt nearly sick from the motion. He could tell they were getting further away from the crowd, but he dreaded to think where they might be taking him. It puzzled him that he hadn’t heard the Professor’s voice yet. However, he knew it was only inevitable that he would soon be back in the clutches of the mad rat.

Minutes later, Basil felt himself being lowered gently to the floor. If not for the person holding him upright, he would have sunk against the wall or down on the floor. Silently he wished for unconsciousness. At least then he wouldn’t have to face the rat so soon. Panting tiredly, Basil tried to focus on the person supporting him. He was puzzled that the touches were so gentle, not the rough handling he had gotten used to from Ratigan’s thugs. He tried to adjust himself more comfortably but groaned as he was reminded of the injury in his leg.

“It’s alright, Basil,” a woman’s voice, Basil was shocked to discover, said softly, holding him close and gently stroking his hair as she noticed how he trembled. “You’re going to be ok.”

Basil could hardly believe his ears. He had never expected to hear that voice, that sweet voice, ever again. He blinked hard trying to get rid of the spots that clouded his vision. “Ch-Charlotte?” he whispered hoarsely.

The lady smiled down at him with unshed tears glistening in her eyes. “Yes, it’s me.” Her smile faded slightly as she saw Basil blink again, staring up at her in shock and clearly looking confused and disoriented.

“I thought… I-I thought you were dead. I saw your body!” Charlotte’s eyes widened at that. “You and… and…” Basil trailed off as another figure approached and kneeled down beside them. “Dawson,” Basil gasped in astonishment. “You're alive?”

\“Indeed,” Dawson replied, breathing his own sigh of relief to see his friend was at least becoming responsive. Immediately his eyes scanned over Basil briefly, assessing the visible wounds. Gently pushing him up to a sitting position Charlotte worked quickly to pick the locks on the cuffs still confining his wrists.

“B-But I saw…” Basil trailed off again as he noticed Inspector Grayson standing behind Dawson reloading his gun while glancing around to make sure they weren’t being followed. Prince Edward also stood nearby, watching with concern. Basil’s mind was reeling at the sight of seeing his friends alive. How was it possible when he had seen their lifeless bodies with his own eyes? Had it all been an allusion? Or was this another one he was experiencing right now? What was real and what was not?

Dawson watched concerned as he could practically see the wheels in Basil’s mind racing as he struggled to make sense of things. It was but the work of a few moments for Charlotte to succeed in removing the cuffs, and once his arms were free Dawson held one of Basil’s wrists to feel a racing pulse. Basil stared dazedly as Dawson gently tilted his chin up to get a look at his eyes, which were dilated. That along with other symptoms confirmed the doctor’s suspicion.

“You’ve been drugged.” Gently, the doctor pushed aside a few locks of hair revealing the deep gash on Basil’s temple. “You probably have a concussion, and you’ve lost a considerable amount of blood through that wound on your leg.”

“What terrible things he must have done to you,” Charlotte remarked softly, steadying Basil with her hand on his back.

“D-Drugged?” Basil repeated quietly, rubbing the sore spot on his arm as some blurred memories flashed in his mind only to disappear just as quickly. He looked at Dawson and blinked again, trying to figure out if his mind was still playing tricks on him.

Dawson gently laid a hand on his quivering shoulder. “Whatever you saw wasn’t real.”

Basil gripped the doctor’s hand as if to reassure himself it was true. He breathed shakily but slowly nodded in understanding. A chill suddenly ran through him. “What of Ratigan?”

“He fled in the midst of all the chaos,” Dawson answered. “While the palace guards search for him and round up the remaining criminals, the Prince is leading us to safety. We have to move fast if we’re to outrun the Professor. Think you can manage to stand?”

Again Basil nodded slowly, and with Dawson’s help was soon on his feet. However, as soon as he put weight on his injured leg he nearly crumbled back down to the floor, causing Dawson and Charlotte to have to support him by his arms over their shoulders. With that, the little group hastened to make their escape as fast as could be managed.

………

A low growl was building up in Ratigan’s throat as he was forced to flee the scene. His delicately laid plans were falling apart before his eyes again, just as they had on the night of the Diamond Jubilee three years ago. Jaeger followed as quickly as he could, almost sprinting to keep up with the Professor’s stride and leaping over the fallen bodies of a few unfortunate rodents whom Ratigan swept out of his path. Even though the plan was falling apart, the assassin knew his best chance of survival was to stay as close to Ratigan as he could. He wasn’t in the mood to go back to prison so soon.

“Professor, what-” Jaeger was cut off mid-sentence when the rat suddenly spun around and grabbed him by the throat.

“If you ever want to see your precious daughter again then you will not let them escape,” Ratigan hissed. “Kill whoever you must, but bring Basil back to me alive.”

Jaeger stared in wide-eyed terror as Ratigan’s grip tightened around his neck and nearly lifted him off the ground. Never had he seen such a rage in the Professor’s golden brown eyes, now burning with bloodlust. He couldn’t even form a reply, merely nodding frantically while desperately trying to get a breath of air.

“After them!” Ratigan growled as he shoved his assassin away from him. Ignoring the pain shooting through his wrists and knees as he fell, Jaeger frantically scampered away as fast as his legs would carry him, not even daring to look back. The Professor’s threat echoed in his head as he ran. Jaeger felt something wet on his cheek and briefly wondered if the rat’s claws had cut him, but was shocked to feel it was a tear and not blood flowing down his cheek.

_I’m sorry, Elizabeth. But I can’t let him hurt you. Or Alice._

That blasted detective was right. Fear had been what drove him all these years. If Elizabeth knew what atrocities he had committed, how many lives he had taken, she would never want him near her or their daughter ever again. But he could never live with himself if anything were to happen to the only two people in the world who mattered to him. And he’d be damned if any harm came to them because of him. Wiping his face with the back of his sleeve hastily, Jaeger squared his shoulders and adjusted the air gun slung across his back.

He would not fail. Not this time. He couldn’t afford to.

.......

Prince Edward lead the way through the tunnels while Dawson and Charlotte followed close behind, supporting Basil between the two of them. Grayson followed up the rear, making sure they weren’t being followed. It was slow progress, but the little group descended deeper and deeper.

“We’re inside one of the secret tunnels beneath the palace now,” Edward explained to Basil as they descended a winding staircase built into the brickwork. “They lead to the sewers beneath the streets and eventually to the outside. There are some strongholds here in the Palace we could barricade ourselves into, but we can’t hide forever. The palace is still crawling with Ratigan’s ilk, so it would be best to get you as far away from here as possible. And you need medical attention quickly-”

The Prince was cut off as a gunshot rang out and Grayson yelled behind him, collapsing against the wall and clutching his shoulder as blood quickly stained his coat. All eyes looked up towards a figure at the top of the stairs, leaning over the banister and taking aim again.

“You’re all gonna need medical attention soon, mate, unless ya give up the detective nice and easy!” came a reply from the gunman, his laughter echoing through the tunnel.

“Jaeger,” Basil breathed as another shot sounded off, the bullet ricocheting off the wall just above their heads.

“Go! Now!” Grayson yelled, grunting as he shot back at the assassin, aiming with his uninjured arm.

“We’ll hold him off!” Edward added, assisting the Inspector by firing off a few shots of his own.

“I’ll help!” Charlotte agreed. Before any of the men could protest, she added, “Three against one is much better odds, especially when one's been shot! Get Basil out of here, doctor. We’ll distract him and catch up later!”

“No, I’m the one he wants,” Basil protested, but he couldn’t do much as Dawson half dragged him down the remaining stairs.

“They’ll be alright, Basil,” Dawson tried to reassure him, although he had his own fears for their friends' safety.

“He’ll kill all of you to get to me!” Basil insisted as they winded their way through more tunnels. He grunted as pain continued to shoot through his leg. “I’m only slowing you down. Jaeger won’t rest until he brings me to Ratigan, and for that, he needs me alive. You can still escape-”

“Shut up, Basil!” Dawson finally snapped. “I’m not giving you over to that insane rat! I nearly lost you once. I am not going to lose you again.”

“He killed Arthur and Louise!” Basil yelled brokenly. “I can’t... I can’t bear to lose anyone else.”

Dawson stared in surprise. Rarely had he seen Basil in such a state. But quickly he tried to reassure him. “No, he didn’t. Charlotte and I found them and stopped the thug before he could throw them into the river.”

Basil’s head whipped up and he stared at the doctor in shock. “They’re alive?”

“Yes. I promise, they’re safe.”

Suddenly Basil sank to the floor on his hands and knees as his legs gave way beneath him. His shoulders trembled as he fought back tears of relief. “I thought…” he whispered, unable to finish. He felt Dawson’s gentle hand on his shoulder.

“I’m sure the Professor told you some terrible things and convinced you that they were your fault. But I can assure you, Basil, that none of it was true. He lies and deceives to get what he wants.”

Lies and deceit. Smoke and mirrors. That had always been Ratigan’s game, hadn’t it? And he fell for it every time.

“Now come,” Dawson said helping Basil to his feet. “We must-”

Basil fell backward as something suddenly hit Dawson in the head when they rounded a corner, causing the mouse to fall with a grunt of pain. As he looked up, Basil found himself staring down the barrel of a gun in the hands of Erik Jaeger. He must have found a way through these winding tunnels to get around them. His heart nearly stopped when the assassin turned that gun instead to Dawson, who lay only barely conscious beside them.

“I should blow his damn head off while you watch,” Jaeger sneered, his finger tightening on the trigger.

“No!” Basil nearly screamed, scrambling between the two to where the barrel of the gun pressed against his chest instead. He remained on his knees and raised his hands above his head in a sign of surrender. “I’m the one you want. I’ll go quietly without a struggle.” Basil swallowed hard. “Take me back to Ratigan and leave him alone.”

“You’ve got some nerve giving me orders, mate,” Jaeger growled, shoving the tip of the gun under Basil’s chin and tilting it at an uncomfortable angle, causing Basil to grunt. Pure, unadulterated hatred shown in the assassin’s cold blue eyes as his finger tightened ever so slightly on the trigger. “I ought to save the Professor the trouble and end you right now.”

Jaeger grinned wickedly, savoring the look of horror on Basil’s face. However, it took a moment longer for him to realize that Basil wasn’t staring at him; he was staring behind him. Feeling his blood run cold, Jaeger slowly turned around, his breath catching in his throat as he laid eyes on the barrel of a gun pointed directly at his face.

“You are the one who’s been a lot more trouble than you’re worth.” Ratigan only glared at the mouse as the rifle in Jaeger’s numb hands clattered to the floor. With a choked cry Jaeger fell to his knees in front of the Napoleon of Crime. He had dreaded this day for years, somehow knowing deep down inside himself that ever since becoming involved with this rat a deadly outcome would be inevitable. And now that it was finally upon him, he found himself with no other option but to beg. The terrified mouse held his trembling hands out in front of him, pleading for an ounce of mercy from the rat.

“N-No. Please…”

“I no longer require your services.”

“No, no, no, p-please Professor! I-I didn’t mean-!”

Jaeger never got to finish his pleas. Basil jumped at the gunshot that cracked out, sickened by the crunch of bone as the back of Jaeger’s skull was shattered from the bullet exiting the back of his head. He scrambled backward to avoid having Jaeger’s body fall on top of him. Tasting bile in the back of his throat as blood pooled around the fallen mouse’s head, Basil’s ears folded as he saw a glint of light reflecting off the necklace containing his daughter’s photograph inside lying on his chest. After all the years of service he had spent under Ratigan’s command, this was how it ended. Now he would never get the chance to see his family again. It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t right.

“You didn’t have to kill him,” Basil nearly spat in contempt.

“He stepped out of line,” was Ratigan’s retort, an icy calm in his voice despite the violent act of murder he had just committed.

“His death was senseless!”

“What's senseless is your feelings of guilt over a criminal," Ratigan replied irately, "which ironically you have made a career of to bring to justice. Once you turned him in to the authorities, he would have been executed anyway. However, I’m not here to debate morals with you.”

Basil grunted as Ratigan suddenly grabbed the front of his shirt and pulled him up, holding him close to his face. “ _I_ decide when you die. And when you do, it will be by no one’s hand but _mine._ ”


	19. Goodbye So Soon

Basil winced at the tight grip Ratigan had on his arm while dragging him along through the tunnels of the sewer. He deliberately tried to walk at a slow pace to slow them down, but the wound in his leg continued to hamper his ability to walk. He noted Ratigan’s own limp, a product of his fall from the clock tower. The wheels in his mind turned as he tried to come up with a plan to use that to his advantage.

“You’re an open book to me, Basil,” Ratigan remarked irately while prodding the gun between the smaller mouse’s shoulder blades more firmly. “I can practically see the train of your thoughts as you eye the limp in my own leg. Don’t try anything unless you want another hole to bleed from.”

Basil scowled in response and was silent for a while, trying to tolerate the pain as best he could. It was becoming almost unbearable to put any weight on his leg. Not long after this exchange, Basil stumbled and would have fallen if not for Ratigan’s grip on his arm. Ratigan paused only long enough for him to become steady again, but Basil nearly cried out when he tried to take a step.

“W-We both could use a rest,” he suggested with a groan. “Just… just one moment to catch our breath-”

“You mean to let your friends and the guards catch up to us. I don’t think so.”

Basil yelped when Ratigan suddenly swooped him up and hefted him over his shoulder, carrying him almost like a child. Instantly he pounded on the rat’s back with his fists, but it didn’t seem to bother Ratigan one bit. He was simply too strong. Nevertheless, Basil continued his efforts, not intending to go willingly. A pained squeak escaped him when Ratigan suddenly pulled on his tail sharply.

“Hold still, you insufferable pipsqueak!” Ratigan hissed, growing more agitated by the minute. Thankfully, Basil finally seemed to either heed the threats or simply grew tired enough that he stopped squirming. However, the Professor felt his own energy draining just as fast. Ratigan’s doctor had said it was a wonder he hadn’t been left permanently crippled as a result of his fall from the clock tower, but that these lingering pains were an unfortunate nuisance he would most likely have to deal with for the rest of his life.

 _Damn the little runt,_ Ratigan thought to himself as he finally paused for a moment to rest. Basil grunted as Ratigan practically dropped him on the ground before sitting down on a discarded matchbox dropped by a human while working in the sewers. Basil panted tiredly as he crawled over to the wall and leaned his back against it to rest, if only briefly. He knew that if he was to escape, he needed to conserve as much energy as possible.

“So what now?” Basil said wearily in between breaths. “Even in good health, I stand no chance in a physical fight against you. So why not put that gun to use and just kill me and be done with it?” 

Ratigan looked at the gun, twisting it so that the barrel glinted in the dim light. He had asked himself this same question many times. However, Ratigan looked at Basil quizzically. “You're certainly in a hurry to die.”

“I'm not keen on the idea,” Basil replied, leaning his head back against the wall and closing his eyes. “But it's inevitable, isn't it? That's been your end game all these years.”

“Perhaps I'm not as eager to end the game as I thought.” Basil opened his eyes and looked at Ratigan in surprise, feeling quite unnerved by the way Ratigan suddenly grinned at him. “You're simply too much fun to play with, my dear Basil.”

“Pfft,” Basil scoffed. “An ordinary person would consider fun to be a nice outing, or perhaps reading or partaking of something in the arts, expanding one's knowledge. Not the atrocious crimes you commit with ease.”

“Well, I’ve never been ordinary, have I?” Ratigan sneered. “Neither have you, which is what has drawn us both together. We’re extraordinary men in a painfully mundane world. But you’re right. What am I to do with you?”

Silence settled over the pair for a few long moments. Basil leaned his head back again, but his mind was racing as he discreetly looked around for any means of escape. It was a long shot that he could keep Ratigan talking long enough for his friends to catch up to them, and outrunning the rat was out of the question. However, there was a pipe directly behind Ratigan that ran through the wall that looked just big enough for him to squeeze through but too small for Ratigan to follow. If he could just keep the professor distracted long enough, maybe he could come up with some sort of diversion…

“I suppose setting me free isn’t an option at this point,” Basil remarked sardonically.

“Tch, obviously. After all the trouble you’ve caused me? The game has been fun certainly, but I’ve grown tiresome of you unraveling my delicately laid plans time after time. It’s become quite tedious.” Basil gulped as Ratigan directed another sly grin at him. “But now that I have you in the palm of my hand, it's time to play a new game.”

Basil scowled. “You can’t keep me as your prisoner forever.”

“Oh, can’t I?" Ratigan grinned deviously. "I’ve already had a taste of seeing you on your knees bound and helpless, completely vulnerable to whatever I want to do to you. I've become rather fond of the image.”

“Sick bastard,” Basil hissed, feeling his skin crawl.

“Of course that attitude certainly needs adjusting. But that wouldn’t be much of a problem, I think,” the rat smiled grimly, gesturing with the gun in his hand. “Given time, you would eventually become docile, catering to my every whim. My little pet.”

“I’m not your anything,” Basil growled, growing more and more uncomfortable with the situation Ratigan was hinting at.

“My other offer is still open, you know. If you don’t want to be a prisoner, you could always work for me instead of against me. You would receive a salary, of course, one much larger than what your clients currently pay you. I would even provide you the services of my own private doctor to get that leg taken care of.” When Basil remained silent, Ratigan pressed on. “It’s been at least three days since you’ve eaten or even had anything to drink. You must be starving. It’s a cold, dreary night. We’re both tired and weary. We could sit by the fire dining like kings while discussing the terms of this little arrangement. Then you would be provided with your own room with your own bed to rest and recover from your injuries.”

Basil swallowed, painfully aware of his dry mouth and aching stomach. He hadn’t had any food or drink since he’d been taken from Baker Street, and he wasn’t even sure when was the last time he had eaten anything before then since he had been so focused on the case. However tempting it was, Basil’s scowl deepened at the attempt at bribery. “Injuries that you caused,” he retorted.

“Need I remind you of how you nearly made me a cripple?” Ratigan almost snarled in response. Basil opened his mouth to argue that that hadn't been entirely his fault, but he knew it was futile. Instead, he let out a tired sigh.

“Even if I accept your offer, I would still be a prisoner. Just like Jaeger was.”

“Mmm, no, not exactly. In addition to the perks I mentioned, you would take Jaeger’s place as my second in command. Although I’m sure you would do a far better job than he ever did. Loran was the best and my favorite; that is, until his conscience got the better of him. Good help is so hard to find. I only promoted Jaeger because he was such an effective assassin-”

“I’d sooner die than collaborate with any diabolical scheme you concoct,” Basil interjected, getting tired of the rat droning on and on.

Ratigan frowned at the interruption. He shrugged before continuing threateningly, “Perhaps I could convince you by, say, taking the life of one of your friends. I could just kill them all one by one while you watched. In fact, I don’t even need a yes or a no from you.” Basil stared as Ratigan stood up and walked over, looming over him ominously. He grunted as Ratigan shoved the gun under his chin and forced him to look up. “I can make you do whatever I want right now. And if you ever stepped out of line or even so much as thought to cross me, then your little circle of friends and family would suffer the consequences.”

“No. You… you can’t,” Basil breathed, heart thudding faster in his chest.

“Try me,” Ratigan hissed. The two locked gazes for what seemed like ages, Ratigan’s golden bloodshot eyes staring into Basil’s sharp emerald ones. Ratigan chuckled evilly at the clear signs of fear in those eyes. “Such disregard for your own life, but yet when it comes to the lives of your loved ones? This is your weakness, Basil. You’ve grown too soft.”

“You have no regard for life at all,” Basil retorted. “You kill with ease, with no thought or conscience. Just as you murdered my mother and father.”

Ratigan stood back up and looked almost hurt by the accusation before turning his back on Basil briefly. “Your mother was a tragic accident, but your father brought such a fate upon himself. He knew too much. And yet, he could never find the spider at the center of his web, could he?”

Basil’s eye grew wide at that as the memories flooded his mind. His father, Scotland Yard Inspector Richard Brettman, had had a large map in his study full of newspaper clippings and notes and photographs from crimes he had investigated himself. He had called it his “spider’s web.” Each item had a thin red string running from one spot to another. Some led to dead ends; others were connected. And several of the strings all led to the same spot on the web; a piece of paper with a question mark scribbled in black ink. Inspector Brettman had sensed the presence of a powerful and influential criminal at the center of the crimes, but he had never had the chance to discover who it was. Later, Basil took up where his father had left off and eventually discovered Professor Ratigan, whom he dubbed the Napoleon of crime.

“You’re wondering how I know about such an intimate piece of knowledge he shared only with you,” Ratigan chuckled. Basil could only stare in shock. “You’ll be even more surprised to know that I even visited your father’s office on a couple of occasions. Once I caught a glimpse inside it as I visited your home at the inspector’s own request in regards to an investigation of a colleague of mine from the university who mysteriously vanished. The second time was while you were all sleeping.” Chills ran through Basil as Ratigan chuckled gleefully. “I even left him a little present on his desk; a hint of sorts.”

“The severed hand,” Basil gasped. “You left it.”

“And yet, Inspector Brettman still never found me out. Your father was a smart mouse; more clever than all the men at Scotland Yard. But not clever enough.”

“You killed him before he could get the chance,” Basil whispered angrily, gripping his hands into fists.

“You, however,” Ratigan continued calmly, “you were always different. I admit I underestimated you, to begin with. But you proved to be bold, intelligent, imaginative, perceptive-”

Basil wasn’t impressed with the flattery. “Then why didn’t you just dispose of me like you did my father?”

“Why would I when I finally had a worthy opponent? At first, I found it cute if not a bit cliche, your following in daddy’s footsteps. I thought I would humor you for a bit. But as time went on, you proved to be more of a nuisance than anything. Your tenacity was annoying, especially when you succeeded where your father never could in discovering my identity and exposing me to all of Mousedom.

“However, I couldn’t help but admire your genius. A genius nearly identical to my own. How much greater that genius could be when combined. Think of what we could accomplish! We would bring this kingdom to its knees. No one would be able to stand in our way!”

“Where you and I differ is that I serve the people. I am not above them. I don’t rule them, nor do I want to.”

“That’s just it, Basil. You owe them nothing.” Basil looked up as Ratigan squatted down in front of him. “You’ve spent your entire adult life solving their stupid little problems, and for what? A few measly farthings and some sensational stories written about you by a bumbling doctor? You crave the work, your mind rebels at stagnation; so why waste such a brain on simple fools? Your genius combined with mine. Just imagine it. You must get tired of such mundane interaction with those simpletons. And I know you’ve enjoyed our game just as much as I have.”

Basil opened his mouth to retort but found he had nothing to say. He grew horrified as he realized Ratigan was partially right.

The professor smiled at Basil’s reaction and rose to his feet. “How much time have you wasted trying to fit in? They don’t care about you. They don’t understand you as I do. Without me, you have nothing.”

Several long moments passed as Basil hung his head, staring at the ground. Ratigan smiled to himself. He could practically see Basil’s resistance falling away piece by piece. That is until…

“You’re wrong.”

Ratigan blinked in confusion. “I beg your pardon?”

“You are wrong.” Basil’s eyes were filled with determination as he lifted his head and stood up, and Ratigan was surprised to see a ghost of a smile on his lips as Basil slowly approached him. “You see, Professor, I have something that you don’t. You may have an entire organization of people spread across Mousedom who you control and who respect you out of fear, but I have family and friends who care for me... who love me just as I am. You said they are my weakness; I say they are my strength. You want to know why I defy people like you? It’s for them. I stand up for those who cannot. That is why I will never join a wretched sewer rat like you!”

Ratigan was so shocked by the bold accusation that he didn’t see Basil’s fist until it made contact with his face. Such a reaction caught him off guard, and he yelped in pain. As the stars slowly faded from his eyes, Ratigan wiped the blood from his nose and looked up to see that Basil had run past him and was fleeing towards the opening of a nearby pipe. Growling as red tinted the edges of his vision from anger, Ratigan bounded after Basil as fast as he could on all fours.

The rat made one final leap as Basil was crawling into the pipe, but Basil got inside just in time as Ratigan collided painfully with a yowl of pain. Basil scrambled to get away as Ratigan reached a clawed hand inside as far as he could, just barely missing as he tried to grab Basil’s ankle. Suddenly, Ratigan remembered the gun in his hand and took aim; but by that time, it was too late. Basil was gone.

Chills ran down his spine as Basil heard Ratigan’s howls of rage echoing through the pipe. “You’ll pay for that, Basil! Do you hear me?! Run while you still can! You can’t escape me!”

Spurred on by those threats, Basil scrambled on his hands and knees through the tunnels as fast as he could. Eventually, Ratigan’s screams faded away, but the words were still ringing in his ears. He had seen that look of pure animal rage in Ratigan’s eyes once before and was nearly killed in that experience. He most definitely could not afford to be caught now.

Time seemed to drag on as Basil made his way slowly through the winding pipes. It was pitch black with only a crack of light here and there through eroded holes in the pipes to guide his way. He mostly felt his way along, groping about in the dark. A small trickle of dirty water ran through, soaking his clothes as he was forced to crawl on his hands and knees. No matter how hard he tried to avoid splashing water onto the area, Basil hissed in pain as he could feel the stab wound in his leg burning. It was sure to get infected after this if it wasn’t already. He had to find a way out of here and get help fast.  
………

Dawson rubbed his aching head dazedly as Charlotte helped him to sit up. “Looks like you took a nasty fall, Doctor.” She glanced over at Jaeger’s body sadly. “I never particularly cared for the bloke, but what a horrible way to go.” She suddenly looked around worried as she connected the pieces together as to what happened. “Oh my god. Ratigan…”

“He took Basil,” Dawson confirmed, his memory slowly coming back. “We have to find him quickly! Where are the others?”

“Prince Edward took the inspector back to the palace to take care of his gunshot wound. He’s going to bring guards back down here with him for reinforcement. They’ll help us find Basil.”

“No time to wait,” Dawson insisted, letting the lady help him to stand up. “We must find him now. There’s no telling what the professor will do to him.”

“We’ll find him, Doctor,” Charlotte nodded reassuringly, although she was very frightened for Basil herself. She had seen firsthand what horror Ratigan was capable of. She didn’t want to even think about what he would do to get revenge on Basil.

The two mice traveled through what felt like miles upon miles of tunnels searching for their friend, calling his name out occasionally and straining their ears for some sort of response. “This could take days,” Dawson said frustratingly after some time. “There must be a better way than just wandering about aimlessly-”

The doctor paused when Charlotte suddenly shushed him and grabbed his arm. “Did you hear that?” she whispered, her voice filled with fear.

“Hear what?” Dawson asked, his own heart pounding.

“It sounded like a-”

Both mice looked at each other eyes wide in horror as a scream echoed in the distance.

…………………

At long last, a light shined in the distance. Basil quickly crawled toward it, eager to get out of such a tight, dark, wet place. When he reached the opening, he listened intently for any sound before slowly sticking his head out to glance around. He could hear nothing but the dripping and trickling sounds of water flowing through the sewer.

Once he was certain Ratigan was nowhere to be seen, Basil climbed out of the pipe. He stood there for a moment still second-guessing himself, but he still saw no immediate danger. He shivered, suddenly noticing his teeth were chattering from the cold slowly seeping into his bones. That and of course the fear that he wouldn’t admit was spreading through him. As soon as he put weight on his leg, he nearly crumpled to the ground and had to grab the edge of the pipe to keep from falling.

Biting back a cry of pain, Basil leaned against the wall to rest and considered his options. He could either stay put and wait for help to arrive- which also left the possibility of Ratigan finding him again- or he could wander around the sewers aimlessly hoping he could somehow find his way back to the palace before Ratigan caught up to him. He had a small knowledge of some of the main paths in the sewers due to the fact that he had simply memorized them to aid him in locating Ratigan’s lair. But he had taken so many twists and turns since arriving in the sewers that he honestly had no idea where he was.

As he sat there, Basil’s ears perked up when he heard what sounded like hooves on the pavement above him. A horse carriage. That meant he was close to the street! He slowly stood up and limped ahead walking further through the tunnel, and to his relief, he saw a grate near the ceiling where moonlight streamed through. There was a stack of discarded crates and debris in the corner of the room that was high enough to reach the ledge that led to the grate. It would be a difficult task to climb with his injury, but if he could only reach the street, he could at least get help from a passerby, or even better, an officer on patrol. Taking a deep breath, he squared his shoulders determined to ignore his leg for just a little while longer.

However, Basil froze suddenly, the fur on the back of his neck standing on end as he thought he heard a shuffling sound behind him. Holding his breath, Basil slowly turned around, but he could see nothing in the darkness. He hoped it was just his mind playing tricks on him... But when he gazed upward, Basil found a pair of yellow eyes staring down at him from the ceiling. A maze of pipes ran along the ceiling overhead, and a familiar shape was perched on top glaring down at him like a hunter stalking its prey. With his heart pounding hard in his chest, immediately Basil took to his heels and sprinted toward the pile of debris as fast as he could.

“Nowhere to run, Basil!” Ratigan snarled, bounding after him. Basil panted as he ran, the most basic animal instincts to survive taking over as the mouse fell on all fours to flee from the rat. Once he reached the first box, Basil leaped and grabbed onto the ledge, scrambling to pull himself up. However, to Basil’s dismay, he felt a clawed hand grab his ankle. His other foot made contact with Ratigan’s jaw as he tried to kick free, but the rat managed to pull him down and flung him to the ground.

Basil grunted as he landed painfully. Just as he got to his feet again, pain erupted in his face and he tasted blood as Ratigan’s fist made contact with his jaw. He stumbled backward and hissed as a claw raked his cheek before the other fist collided into his stomach, knocking the breath out of him and causing him to crumple to the ground. Basil gasped as he felt the sharp pain of what must have been his ribs cracking as Ratigan kicked him in the side, causing him to roll away.

Ratigan chuckled darkly as Basil weakly pulled himself up, though he was only able to raise himself to his hands and knees, his back exposed as he tried to crawl away. “You never could learn to stay down,” Ratigan snarled. Basil screamed as he felt a searing pain as Ratigan’s claws struck at his unprotected back, not just once, but twice in quick succession. The force of the blows caused him to collapse again and he instinctively curled into a ball in an attempt to shield his vital organs from damage.

A low growl rumbled in Ratigan's chest as he slowly circled Basil, who could only lay there groaning as pain racked his battered body. He yelped when Ratigan suddenly grabbed his ankles and pulled him closer. Basil clawed at the floor desperately looking for some sort of hold but his nails only left scratches in the pavement. He was shaking, his body betraying him as he fought to hide his fear as Ratigan flipped him over onto his back. He gritted his teeth together to keep from crying out but accidentally let out a soft whimper, causing Ratigan to grin with sick satisfaction.

 _The gun. Where is the gun?!_ Basil knew it had to be inside one of Ratigan’s pockets. As a distraction, Basil suddenly struck out at Ratigan’s face again, attempting to stun the larger rodent. Basil struck again with his other fist, trying anything to get the rat off of him, but this time Ratigan caught his wrist in midair and twisted it cruelly. This caused Basil to cry out, and taking advantage of the distraction, he grabbed Basil’s other arm and forced them both to the ground. 

As Ratigan forcefully pinned him down by his wrists, Basil couldn't help it as the trembling grew worse. He stared as Ratigan’s face hovered right above his, fangs bared as he growled. Even through all this, Basil’s mind was racing. Mice and rats had been trying to live alongside each other in recent years. But muricide- the instinct to hunt, capture, and kill mice- was still an instinctive, predatory behavior in rats. Staring into the professor’s bloodshot eyes, Basil knew that all sense of propriety was gone; Ratigan would kill him. Normally, rats would kill swiftly with a bite to the back of the neck or the spine. However, Ratigan had pinned him down with his stomach exposed instead. Surely he wouldn’t...

But the horrible truth dawned on Basil as he saw the rat’s eyes trail down to his throat. He was nearly paralyzed with fear as Ratigan let out a feral snarl before lunging at his neck. Trapped as he was, Basil was helpless to avoid the attack, but he managed to twist away just enough for Ratigan’s teeth to miss his neck. An agonized scream tore from Basil’s throat as searing pain erupted in his right shoulder where Ratigan’s jaws snapped shut instead. Blind with panic, he frantically tried to free himself of the rat’s grip. But of course, it proved to be no use, and his struggles only caused Ratigan to bite down harder, teeth ripping into his flesh right down to the bone. In between ragged gasps for breath, Basil continued screaming, squeezing his eyes shut so tightly that tears formed. With time, his cries slowly died down into weak groans and squeaks of pain.

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, Ratigan released him. Basil let out a hoarse gasp and moaned faintly as Ratigan’s face hovered just above his, blood and saliva dripping from the rat’s jaws onto Basil’s face. A chill ran through him as Ratigan licked his teeth and gums as if savoring the taste of his foe’s blood on his tongue. Trembling in pain and terror, Basil wondered if Ratigan would eat him alive as the more wild, feral rats were known to do to their prey. He gasped when he felt Ratigan's tail slowly slither around his waist, constricting slightly like a snake. He gritted his teeth trying to make himself be quiet, hating how he had been reduced to a pathetic, whimpering mouseling.

Basil flinched as Ratigan chuckled evilly. A brief moment of sanity came back to the rat as he spoke. “You asked earlier why I don’t simply kill you.” Basil’s ears folded as a maniacal laugh erupted from the professor. “What false bravado that was! Just look at the Great Mouse Detective now. You don't really want to die, now do you?”

Still in shock from being bitten so savagely, Basil could only stare in mute horror.

“Say it,” Ratigan commanded, all sense of merriment gone. Basil didn’t know what to do except do as Ratigan said; anything to keep from experiencing more pain. He was beginning to think it really might have been better if Ratigan had just killed him to begin with. If death was to be the only release from this agony, perhaps he should welcome it. Yet a chilling, paralyzing fear gripped Basil’s soul. Ratigan was right. He wasn’t ready. Not yet. Not like this!

“I don't want to die,” came the whispered response at last.

Ratigan frowned. “That doesn't sound very convincing. Say it again.”

Basil choked as Ratigan’s hand suddenly gripped his throat, squeezing tightly. “I… I-I don't want to … to die.”

“Again,” the rat demanded, his grip tightening even further.

“I don't want to die,” Basil gasped quietly.

Ratigan stared into Basil’s wide eyes for a long moment before he was satisfied. “Good.” Basil inhaled sharply and coughed when Ratigan suddenly removed his hand. However, the professor hadn’t had his fill of fun yet. “Now beg me to spare you. Go on. I want to hear you plead for mercy.”

Basil hesitated to answer, partly because he was still out of breath from screaming and being choked, and partly because of a tiny bit of pride that still refused to give Ratigan the satisfaction. This, of course, displeased Ratigan, and once again he erupted in fury. “I said beg!” he roared, slowly raking his claws down Basil’s chest. Basil screamed hoarsely, feeling as if his flesh was burning. He felt himself growing weaker by the second as blood seeped from the wounds that marred his body. Darkness was creeping into the edges of his vision, and Basil’s eyes slowly shut. They snapped open again when he felt Ratigan strike his cheek with the back of his hand before grabbing his chin firmly.

“Keep your eyes open,” Ratigan hissed. “I want to witness the very moment that you die.”

Fearing another blow, Basil struggled to obey. This was it then. He was finally to die at the hands of the Napoleon of crime. He had always anticipated this possibility, but now the moment was upon him. He shivered as another groan escaped his lips. He held his eyes open as long as he could, but the darkness was swiftly taking over. The last thing he would ever see on this earth was Ratigan’s twisted smile of triumph. He had won at last.

“Goodbye, my dear Basil,” Ratigan chuckled darkly with delight, stroking Basil's cheek almost fondly. His merriment was short-lived, however. His sharp ears heard the sound of hurried footsteps, and his head whipped up to see who was approaching.

“Get the hell away from my friend,” Dawson said in a commanding tone, aiming his pistol toward the rat. “Now.”

Basil forced his eyes open when he heard his friend's voice. He regained a tiny sliver of hope, but when he tilted his head to see, Basil saw that Dawson was alone. Why had he come alone?! Now Ratigan would kill him too!

Ratigan growled in annoyance. “I'm growing tired of your interference, chubby,” he hissed, suddenly retrieving the gun from his pocket and aiming at Dawson. But before he could pull the trigger, he felt a sharp pain in his hand and yowled as the gun clattered to the floor. Whipping his head around, he saw Charlotte preparing to fire again. She and Dawson had split up in an attempt to attack from two sides. Enraged, Ratigan snarled as he bounded toward her. Charlotte fired again, but this time missed her mark as Ratigan struck her in the face, the force causing her to roll away from him as she fell. In retaliation, Dawson fired, the bullet striking the rat in the shoulder. Bloodshot eyes flashing in rage, Ratigan roared and sprang again, his body colliding so hard into Dawson that the smaller mouse hit the wall and crumpled to the floor with a grunt. Ratigan crouched ready to spring again until another voice called out suddenly in the midst of the chaos.

“Stop!”

The professor turned and was shocked to see Basil staggering to his feet, holding Ratigan's own gun in his trembling hands. Enraged, Ratigan growled as he took a step forward. “You dare to continue to defy me?!”

“S-Stay back!” Basil replied, also taking a step backward.

“Or what? You’ll shoot me?” Ratigan laughed harshly. “Well, get on with it, then! Your hands are trembling terribly. You can barely even stand. Here, I’ll make it easier for you to hit your mark.” Basil stumbled backward as Ratigan continued to approach until he felt his back against the wall. “Well, what are you waiting for? End it!”

Basil swallowed hard, tightening his finger on the trigger. Ratigan laughed at his hesitation. “What's the matter, Basil? Haven't you ever killed a man before? Never felt the thrill of holding the power of life and death in your own hands? Come now, here's your chance to rid yourself of me for good.”

A long silence settled over the two mice. Dawson groaned from where he lay, and Charlotte stared in horror at the scene unfolding as blood ran from a cut on her cheek. Basil’s eyes were wide as he stared up at the rat towering over him, and he realized he was frozen to the spot. Ratigan was right. He had never killed anyone. But this was the nefarious Professor Ratigan, the Napoleon of Crime! A criminal of the worst sort who had tried to kill Basil himself multiple times, who had nearly mauled him to death just now! Why couldn't he pull the trigger?

A dark, evil laugh came from Ratigan. As if in answer to Basil’s thoughts, he remarked, “You won’t kill me. You _need_ me.”

Basil’s ears folded as Ratigan stroked his cheek softly again. He swallowed hard and squared his shoulders, his hands steadying slightly as he pushed Ratigan's hand away and aimed the gun square between Ratigan's eyes at that brilliant but mad brain of his. “No. You will go to prison, and you will be executed for your crimes. The game is over, Professor. You and I are finished.”

Ratigan blinked in surprise, his body trembling in an enraged fury. “I'll say when we're finished!” he roared, suddenly grabbing Basil by the collar of his shirt and shaking him roughly. “You are weak! I'll kill you _and_ your precious friends!”

Basil grunted as Ratigan flung him away. Dazed, Basil painfully sat up and stared in shock as Ratigan sprang toward Dawson. The doctor didn't even have time to react and felt his airway constricted as Ratigan lifted him off the floor by his throat. The rat raised his other hand, claws ready to strike.

A shot rang out. Ratigan sputtered and coughed, surprised to see red staining his chest. He stared dumbfounded at Basil, who had managed to raise himself up to his knees to fire the shot.

“You,” Ratigan hissed. “You impudent little bastard-” Basil fired again as Ratigan took a step toward him, this time hitting him in the arm, causing him to drop Dawson. Ratigan roared in a furious rage and charged. Basil rose to his feet and fired all of the remaining bullets, each one thudding into the huge rat. Ratigan finally fell within only a few paces of reaching Basil. 

Charlotte quickly ran to him. He was staring trance-like at the fallen corpse with cold, bloodshot eyes, the gun clicking as he continued to pull the trigger even though the chamber was empty. She gently lowered his hands and pried the gun away from him, tossing it to the ground. “It's alright, Basil,” she said softly, holding his face between her hands. “Hey, look at me.” Slowly Basil’s eyes focused on hers. “It's ok. It's all over now. He's gone.”

Basil was panting, his entire body trembling. He glanced back at Ratigan's body, then at Dawson, who was rubbing his sore throat as he struggled to stand upright, then back to Charlotte. It really was over. Ratigan was dead. Basil was surprised as he felt a tear escape and run down his cheek. He shuddered as Charlotte wrapped her arms around him and began stroking his hair gently in an effort to calm him. He was beginning to feel the aftereffects of the adrenaline that had been coursing through him during the ordeal, and Basil suddenly felt a wave of exhaustion wash over him as he became acutely aware of every sting of pain racking his body.

Charlotte gasped when the mouse suddenly went limp in her arms. “Basil? Basil, say something! Doctor Dawson!” she called frantically, lowering Basil down to the floor as she couldn't support his weight.

Dawson came over as quickly as he could, instantly forgetting his own slight injuries as he began to assess Basil’s. The first and most obvious thing he observed was the blood. There was far too much of it staining Basil’s clothes and dripping to the pavement. Dawson grabbed his wrist and felt a weak pulse while Basil was breathing rapidly as he was close to hyperventilating.

“What’s happening to him?!” Charlotte asked, her voice quivering.

“His body is in shock,” Dawson explained. He looked up only briefly when he heard the sound of footsteps approaching and was relieved to see the Prince arriving with armed guards. There was awed silence as they circled the dead rat.

However, Edward was staring at Basil with growing horror as he easily pieced together what had happened. “No,” he gasped, hurrying over to them. “We’re too late.”

“Not yet. But we need to stop this bleeding. Cradle his head and elevate his feet,” Dawson instructed while tearing strips of cloth from his shirt, his military instincts taking over as he didn’t even realize that he was giving orders to the Prince. However, the two younger mice obeyed, Charlotte holding Basil’s head in her lap as gently as she could while Edward knelt down and raised Basil’s feet slightly off the floor to help the blood flow to his heart. Dawson gently peeled away the tattered strips of Basil’s shirt trying to get a better view of the wounds on his torso and nearly froze at the sight. He had seen many types of injuries in his military days, but this…

"Good god,” Edward whispered. “Is that a... a-a bite mark?”

"It's been pierced down to the bone,” Dawson confirmed with growing horror. His gaze moved down Basil's body from the bloodied shoulder to the deep gashes on his chest to his injured leg, noticing the bloodied bandage had been soaked with fresh blood.

“Doctor…” Charlotte gasped. Dawson felt his heart sink as she held out her hand, her palm coated with blood. Basil let out a pained groan as they gently turned him onto his side to reveal the jagged claw marks that ran down his back.

“Blast it, he’s losing too much blood!” Dawson grunted in frustration. Basil moaned when they turned him over again, and Dawson’s ears folded as he noticed the mouse growing faint. “No, no. Stay awake,” he said patting Basil’s cheek lightly in an effort to get his eyes to open again. It took every ounce of strength he had, but Basil managed it and tried his best to focus on Dawson’s face. “Basil, I need you to keep your eyes open, alright?” Unable to speak, Basil blinked once in understanding. Dawson then looked to Charlotte. “Talk to him, try to keep him awake. If he loses consciousness now, I’m afraid he might not ever wake up.”

Swallowing the lump in her throat, Charlotte nodded as Dawson continued trying to staunch as much bleeding as he could. She softly brushed a lock of hair from Basil’s forehead, trying to remain calm for him despite having a better view now of the bruises and cuts on his face. “Alright, Bas, stay focused. Just… just keep your eyes on me. You're going to be fine.”

Basil blinked slowly, her words sounding faint as if coming from a long tunnel. He could hear Dawson saying something, could see the shape of several guards carrying Ratigan’s body away while a few stayed behind and circled around them. Sleep. He just wanted sleep. If he could close his eyes for just one moment-

“No, Basil, you need to stay awake, ok?” came Charlotte’s worried voice “I know it's hard but you have to stay awake…”

It took so much effort just to open his eyelids again, but Basil managed to focus on her brown eyes for just a few moments longer. However, it was all just too much. His eyes slowly shut as his world grew dark.

“No, s-stay with me,” Charlotte pleaded almost in a panic as she cupped Basil’s cheek. “Please open your eyes. Don't… D-Don't leave me, please. Y-You can’t die, you can’t! Please… _Basil!_ ”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's an illustration of this chapter that I made myself! https://www.deviantart.com/als123/art/Confrontation-747419452   
> Lots more GMD art on my deviantART account if you're interested and want to take a look! ^_^


	20. Aftermath

Hearing Charlotte’s distressed cries caused Dawson to pause in his examination of Basil’s wounds. Blast it. He knew it was only a matter of time before Basil succumbed to the exhaustion and pain, but he had hoped to keep him conscious as long as possible. All that mattered now was keeping him alive. They needed to get him to a safe and sterile environment to clean and dress the wounds as fast as possible. Dawson said so aloud, and the Prince quickly removed his own coat to use it as a makeshift stretcher to help carry the injured mouse. Basil was quickly but carefully laid onto the coat and carried between the two strongest guards while Dawson followed alongside to keep watch over him.

The trek through the tunnels seemed endless. They practically ran the entire way, being careful not to jostle Basil around too much. At least being unconscious meant he wasn’t feeling any pain. Still, worry filled the doctor’s mind as he feared they would be too late to save him.

Upon reaching the palace walls, Basil was taken to the infirmary where the royal family’s doctor and surgeon was busy at work with his assistants tending to those wounded in the scuffle during the coronation ceremony. Among those was Inspector Grayson, who sat on the edge of a bed with his arm in a sling to prevent from irritating the gunshot wound in his shoulder. He looked up when the guards arrived followed closely by Dawson, Charlotte, and the Prince.

“My god,” Grayson gasped upon seeing the mouse they were carrying. He rose to his feet and followed, watching as the detective was gently laid on a bed. “The fiend killed him.”

“Not if I can help it,” Dawson snapped, working quickly to strip away what little cloth remained of Basil’s shirt.

“You mean he’s still alive?” Grayson said shocked. He didn’t receive a reply as Dawson bustled around giving instructions to the nurses when needed. The inspector glanced at Charlotte standing off to the side wiping her tear-streaked face with the back of her sleeve and then turned his attention to the prince. “What of the Professor?”

“Dead,” Edward answered tiredly. “My men have retrieved the body from the sewers, as well as that of the assassin Jaeger, and will assist in transporting them to Scotland Yard.”

The inspector nodded as he let out a shaky breath while running a hand through his hair. At least Professor Ratigan was no more. He would have to get all of their statements as witnesses later to find out what had transpired, but the only thing he could focus on right now was Basil. Even though they butted heads more often than not, Grayson counted the detective as a friend as well as an invaluable colleague even though he wasn’t an official part of the Yard. He was a good mouse who didn’t deserve an ending like this, least of all at the hands of that wretched sewer rat.

Grayson was snapped out of his thoughts as the royal doctor, an older shrew with gray fur, arrived and quickly pushed his way through the crowd. Dawson briefly explained what happened while the doctor examined the injuries himself before calling over his assistants to help place Basil on a sort of stretcher to transport him to the operating room. Dawson followed until the surgeon stepped in his way.

“Thank you, Dr. Dawson,” the doctor said while Basil was taken away. “We’ll take it from here.”

“I’m his doctor, I should be with him,” Dawson insisted, craning his neck trying to see.

“You’ll only be in the way-”

“I’m an army surgeon, for god’s sakes!” Dawson exclaimed loudly, his temper rising as he felt hands holding him back. “He’s my friend! I have to help him!”

“Then as his friend, you need to let me do what I can to save him!” the shew retorted firmly. “I understand, doctor. Believe me, I do. But look at your hands trembling. You are too emotionally involved to perform any type of surgery right now. I swear to do my best to save your friend. You have to trust me.”

Dawson stared, his eyes darting back and forth from the doctor to Basil lying deathly still on the bed. He clenched his shaking hands knowing that the shrew was right, but he couldn’t leave Basil’s side. Not now, not when he needed him most. His ears were ringing as he watched the surgeon walk away through a set of doors. Shaking his head, Dawson took a step forward but was quickly grabbed and pulled back.

“No,” Dawson stammered, tears springing to his eyes as he strained against whoever was restraining him. “No, he needs me! Please, he’s my friend! He’s my friend…”

“Doctor. Doctor Dawson, look at me.”

His vision blurry with unshed tears, Dawson tried to focus on Charlotte’s face in front of him as she gently cupped his cheek. “Basil is going to be ok. Alright? I know you don’t want to leave his side. None of us do. But he’s safe now. You have to let them help him.”

“Dr. Doyle is one of the best surgeons in Mousedom,” Edward added placing a hand on Dawson’s shoulder, joining Charlotte in trying to comfort him. “I promise Basil is in excellent hands.”

“You see?” Charlotte smiled. “If it weren’t for you, doctor, Basil would be dead now. You’ve done all you can.”

Panting tiredly, Dawson finally nodded and felt the hands release him. Defeated, he sank down onto one of the beds and held his head in his hands while tears of frustration ran down his face. The two younger mice glanced at each other sadly before Charlotte joined him and gently rubbed his back, a few tears of her own escaping again. No more words could be spoken. All that was left to do now was wait.

.......

The hours dragged by at an agonizingly slow pace. Feeling too anxious to sit still, Dawson took to pacing up and down the hall to avoid disturbing the other patients. After what felt like an eternity, the surgeon finally emerged from the operating room to report. Basil had lost so much blood that a transfusion had to be performed, he was severely dehydrated, and fever had developed as a result of the infection in his leg. But the wounds had been cleaned and stitched, and antibiotics along with pain medications would treat the rest. It would be a long road to recovery, but his life was saved. Everyone let out a collective sigh of relief at the news.

Basil had been taken to a private room to recover, but visitors were limited as he needed as much rest as possible. And so Edward and the Inspector worked to clear up the mess and collect witness statements while Dawson and Charlotte were finally allowed to see him.

Dawson stared when they entered the room. Basil was still unconscious and looked so still, so weak lying there bruised and bandaged, the only movement being a slight rise and fall of his chest as he breathed. So unlike the excitable ball of energy Dawson was used to seeing. He sank into a chair beside the bed while Charlotte sat on the edge of the bed. “Oh, Bas,” the lady remarked softly, taking Basil’s hand in her own.

Dawson could only stare for a moment at the bandages covering Basil’s bare torso. He couldn’t help blaming himself for not reaching Basil sooner. “If only I hadn’t let Jaeger sneak up on us,” he remarked bitterly. “Then none of this would have happened. Or if I… perhaps if...” the doctor trailed off helplessly.

Charlotte’s ears folded as she partially blamed herself as well for not reaching him in time, or for missing the mark when she had shot at Ratigan. “We can’t dwell on the what if’s, doctor,” she said at length, touching Dawson on the shoulder gently. “All that matters is that he’s alive. He’ll be back to his old self in no time, you’ll see.”

Letting out a tired sigh, Dawson tried to return the lady’s smile and patted her hand appreciatively. She was right, of course. It was all over now, and what they needed to focus on right now was helping Basil recover from the ordeal.

The two mice kept a close watch on their patient, speaking only briefly in hushed tones so as not to wake him, letting him rest as long as possible. But fatigue caught up to them as well as the hours dragged by. Dawson finally nodded off in his chair while Charlotte dozed as she laid her head down on the bed while sitting in a chair on the opposite side.

Sometime later, Basil himself began to stir. His heart began racing as Ratigan’s screeching and the final gunshot that killed him still echoed in his brain, and it took a few moments for his thoughts to catch up to him as he glanced around his new surroundings. He appeared to be in a hospital bed, and relief flooded through him when he spotted Dawson asleep in the chair beside him. He glanced down at the bandages wrapped around his body. He felt few aches and pains and figured he must have been given medicine to cope with that. As he glanced down he also noticed for the first time that someone was holding his hand.

Charlotte. He had assumed she would make off into the night during the chaos to avoid arrest seeing as she was a wanted thief. Grayson must not have recognized her yet, thankfully. Settling back into the pillow, Basil smiled and rubbed the back of her hand with his thumb gently. For the first time in days, he felt safe. He felt peace.

Feeling the movement on her hand, Charlotte stirred awake and was overjoyed to see Basil smiling down at her. “Bas,” she whispered happily, softly cupping his cheek with her other hand.

“Hello, Charlie,” Basil replied, leaning further into her hand gratefully. He had endured so much torture in the last few days that it was a relief to feel a gentle touch instead of being struck painfully.

“About time you woke up, sleepyhead,” Charlotte smirked. “Dawson’s been worried sick about you.”

“Only Dawson?” Basil asked with a teasing smile, raising an eyebrow.

“Alright, we all were,” Charlotte chuckled. She stood up as if to wake him. “He’ll be glad to see you awake.”

“No, let him rest. He needs it.”

Charlotte smiled and nodded as she sat back down. She blushed as Basil looked at her with tired, half-lidded eyes. “What?”

“Oh, nothing,” Basil stuttered shyly, an unusual trait for him. “I just… wanted to say thank you. For, um, you know… saving my life and everything.”

Charlotte smiled warmly and squeezed his hand. He was always so adorable when he blushed. _No!_ She mentally shook her head at herself. _Don't get distracted._ "You’re welcome,” she replied softly. Suddenly Charlotte found she had trouble ignoring the tears welling in her eyes and wiped her face with the back of her sleeve. Despite what the surgeon had said, she had worried that Basil would never wake up again. Just to hear his voice, even if slightly hoarse with overuse, was music to her ears. That’s why she hadn’t left yet. Now that she had seen him alive with her own eyes, it was time to get lost before anyone figured out who she really was. Better to get it over with now than to draw out a long and painful goodbye. “I, um… I better get going,” she finally said standing to her feet.

Basil’s ears folded sadly as his heart sank. “Leaving so soon?”

Charlotte twirled a strand of hair around her finger nervously. “Well, due to the events of the past several days, I am far behind schedule. And I don’t like the way the Inspector has been looking so suspiciously at me. He’s sure to figure out who I am sooner or later.”

“Later, more likely,” Basil chuckled, wincing as the action made his broken ribs ache.

Charlotte smiled back. “Still, can’t risk it. I’m sure you understand.”

“Wait!” Charlotte turned back surprised when Basil grabbed her hand, the movement causing him to groan quietly as he had forgotten about the IV in his arm. “Don’t disappear into the night again when I’m unable to chase you,” he said frustrated.

Charlotte’s heart ached as she glanced back and forth between him and the door. She didn’t want to leave, but it would be much harder for them to see each other if she were stuck in prison. “It’s not goodbye for good. Besides, I’m a thief and you’re a detective, remember? Our paths are sure to cross over and over again. And now with the professor out of the way, I get you all to myself.”

“Is that a challenge?” Basil smiled roguishly. His eyes shot open wide as Charlotte’s lips were suddenly on his, then closed as he melted into the kiss.

“It’s a promise,” she whispered into his ear once they had pulled apart, her hand lingering on his cheek for a moment longer before walking out the door. Basil stared at the door, touching his fingers to his lips as his tired brain tried to process what had just happened.

A few moments later, Basil sighed as he was still staring forlornly at the door. “Alright, Dawson, you can stop pretending to be asleep now. Try as you might, you can’t hide the little smirk under that bushy mustache of yours.” Dawson chuckled as he sat up and stretched his arms above his head working the stiffness out of his joints. “Just how much of that exchange did you hear?”

“Not much. It’s more what I saw there at the end,” Dawson smiled. Basil groaned with chagrin, grimacing as he had forgotten how sore he was as he let his head fall back onto the pillow. “Dash it all, Basil, don’t be ashamed. You two are made for each other.”

Basil scoffed. “She merely caught me off guard, is all. That woman always does.” He frowned while staring at the ceiling, cheeks still slightly flush with embarrassment. “At least she didn’t leave me trapped in handcuffs this time,” he muttered.

Still smiling, Dawson sat silent for a few moments to let Basil’s embarrassment cool down. “How are you feeling?” he asked after a few moments.

“Tired. Sore. Exceedingly thirsty,” Basil answered, prompting Dawson to retrieve a cup of water for him from a sink nearby. Dawson adjusted the pillow behind Basil to help him sit up and Basil took the cup gratefully, the liquid feeling cool and refreshing after so many days with no sustenance. “What day is it?” he asked curiously, having had no way to measure time while in captivity.

“Monday. You were taken from Baker Street three days ago. Today marks the fourth. You’ve been asleep all day due to your injuries.”

Basil sat quietly for a moment before taking another sip of water. He looked down at his bandaged torso. They had most likely given him morphine, he thought, due to how sluggish and numb he felt. Despite that, he still felt some aches and pains. It would take weeks for his body to fully heal from this. He dreaded the thought of being confined to a bed for so long with no detective work to do. But right now, he didn’t have much of a choice. “It hurts to even breathe,” he complained, wincing slightly as he had moved a little too much trying to get comfortable.

“Sit still,” Dawson replied calmly but firmly. “You’ve got a fractured rib. Just take slow, even breaths. In like this… and out. In… and out.” Basil breathed in time with Dawson, feeling a little less pain now. “Good. Try to relax.” He would have his hands full for sure, Dawson thought, over the next few weeks while trying to tend to his “patient.” However, for once, Basil obeyed and settled back against the pillow, continuing to focus on breathing evenly to get some relief. Yet Dawson noticed how he still shifted uncomfortably, no doubt due to the gashes on his back. “It’s been a while since any medication has been administered. I’ll ask the doctor to-”

“No, that’s alright,” Basil protested, holding a hand up. “I don’t want to sleep anymore.” He was quiet for a moment before adding, “When I close my eyes, all I see is his face.”

Dawson’s ears folded at that. He scooted his chair closer to the bedside and gently put a hand on Basil’s arm. “But at least Ratigan has finally been defeated. You did it, Basil. After all the years of trying to stop the villain, you succeeded in putting an end to the reign of the Napoleon of crime.” After a moment, he added, “Your father would be so proud.”

“I hesitated.” Dawson looked up with a confused expression at hearing Basil’s remark. “I hesitated to kill Ratigan, the worst criminal mind of our time. That bastard murdered my own mother and father, something I’ve been trying to avenge for years. And yet when the moment finally came, I hesitated. It wasn’t until he tried to kill you that I could make myself pull the trigger. It was almost too late. If he had…” Basil gulped trying to rid himself of the lump in his throat. “If anything had happened to you because of my hesitation, I… I-I…”

Basil looked up as he felt Dawson’s hand on his shoulder. “You hesitated because you are not a monster. Taking a life comes easily to someone like Ratigan. To you, whose life’s work is to preserve life and help those in need, killing someone is not your nature. Neither is revenge. But when it came down to the line, you protected your friend. And for that, I’ll be eternally grateful.”

As he stared at the doctor- no, his best friend- Basil felt something akin to a large weight being lightened from his shoulders. Perhaps it wasn’t completely lifted, but the load had certainly diminished. It would take a while yet to heal from all that had transpired within the last decade or so of his life, but for the first time in a long while, he felt he could breathe again.

“Thank you, Dawson,” finally came Basil’s whispered response. It was the most sincere Dawson thought he had ever seen the younger mouse.

“No problem at all, old boy,” Dawson smiled, earning a smile in return.

Never one for long, drawn-out emotional moments, Basil was silently grateful for the door to open as the Inspector and the prince stepped inside. “Well, well, the great mouse detective lives!” Grayson chuckled. “Good to see you up and at ‘em, Basil.”

“Same to you, Inspector,” Basil smiled while shaking the mouse’s outstretched hand warmly with his good arm. To the prince, Basil bowed his head. “And how is Her Majesty after this fiasco?”

“She’s safe with not even a scratch. Just angry that criminals keep trying to ruin every major event here at the palace,” Edward replied chuckling. More seriously, he added, “But I want to thank you, Mr. Basil, for saving Mousedom again from that fiend.”

“All in a day’s work, your highness,” Basil replied with an embarrassed smile, waving his hand nonchalantly. “However, there’s something I’ve been wanting to discuss with you, gentlemen. One thing that still puzzles me about this whole business.”

“Oh?” Grayson asked curiously. “And what’s that?”

“I have no idea where I was held captive.”

“No offense, Mr. Basil, but what difference is that now?” Grayson asked. “You’re alive and safe, and Ratigan’s plan was stopped.”

“Because there’s a good chance that wherever I was hidden is also where Ratigan’s headquarters have been since the Diamond Jubilee. Three years have passed, and I assume he spent the time recovering from the fall and also rebuilding his criminal empire. There’s sure to be evidence at this location that could solve dozens of cold cases from the past few years, any money or secret accounts stolen to fund his new organization since all his original work was seized. Not to mention any henchmen who still remain in his employ could be hiding there.”

“It’ll be like looking for a needle in a haystack,” Grayson sighed wearily. “But you’re right, I suppose. We can start on that once everything from tonight is cleared up. Do you remember anything at all about where you were held prisoner?”

Basil spent the next few minutes recounting his kidnap from Baker Street and his first day in captivity along with detailed descriptions of things he saw and heard. When he reached the part where Ratigan had given the order to kill Basil’s niece and nephew, Dawson spoke up and told of how he and Charlotte had helped save the children. He also told Basil of their visit to Oliver Loran in prison.

Soon one of the nurses came in with some supper for the patient and a few minutes later returned with coffee for the other men. While Basil slowly but gratefully nibbled on a piece of toast, the first food he had had in days, Grayson posed a question. “The ones arrested tonight will all be questioned thoroughly about their involvement in your kidnapping, but you’re sure you wouldn’t recognize any of them in a lineup?”

Basil shook his head in disappointment. “No. I couldn’t see the faces of anyone who took me from Baker Street because it was too dark, and the only ones who ever came into my cell were Ratigan and Jaeger. Most of the time, I was beaten unconscious or drugged-”

Basil trailed off as a certain memory suddenly flashed through his mind. A memory of lying on his back on a table, lightning flashing in a window high up above him, feeling a sharp pain in his arm right before the nightmare he had of Ratigan chasing him atop Big Ben, with the Professor himself leaning over him laughing gleefully, along with…

He finally came to himself when he felt Dawson prod his arm gently. “Basil?”

“No,” Basil said breathlessly as he looked back and forth between the three mice. “No, there _was_ someone else.”

“Who?” Dawson asked curiously.

“I don’t know. I don’t remember anything but a shadow standing over me.” Basil then recounted the vivid hallucinations the drug had caused while he had been forcibly held down on the table and again in his cell. His friends listened with their mouths agape in horror.

“Good heavens. No wonder you were so out of it at the palace when you were about to be hanged,” Grayson remarked.

“And unless they were one of the thugs arrested at the palace, then this person is still at large,” Dawson added concerned.

“Precisely,” Basil agreed. “And keep in mind that until his dramatic appearance yesterday evening, all of Mousedom believed Ratigan to be dead. He would have had to operate in a secluded place to avoid being discovered. Ratigan had connections in all sorts of unlikely places, so-” His ears perked up as a certain memory flashed through his mind from the encounter with Ratigan in the sewers.

_“My offer is still open, you know… you could always work for me instead of against me… I would even provide you with the services of my own--”_

“Private doctor,” Basil said aloud. Dawson looked at him surprised. “He mentioned having a doctor of his own. Taunted me by offering to have him heal my wounds if I would cooperate and join him.”

“Join him?” Dawson repeated in amazement. Mousedom’s two greatest minds joining forces for evil? What a terrifying situation that could be.

“Ratigan lived for the competition against me, but his ultimate goal was to turn me over to his side. To control me and use me for his own nefarious purposes. Which leads me to think that the purpose of drugging me was not only to keep me subdued so I couldn’t escape but also an experiment.”

Basil closed his eyes and tried to repress a shudder as images and thoughts crossed his mind. “It’s difficult to put into words. While under the influence of this drug, Ratigan put thoughts and images into my head simply by speaking. Whatever it was left me very susceptible to anything he said. The hallucinations felt so real I could touch them.” Basil felt shivers down his spine as he recalled the vision of his friends’ bodies lying all around him. “I think it was a test to see what Ratigan could get me to do or say. That’s why I offered little resistance to him even as I was about to be hanged. I simply believed him. He made me believe that I was a criminal who deserved to die.

“Anyway, I believe that the one who administered the drug is the same person Ratigan referred to as his doctor. Think about it. In addition to a secluded place to hide, Ratigan would have needed to have as little contact with as few people as possible. Despite the breadth of his criminal organization before the fall, he wouldn't have revealed his supposed rise from the grave to just anyone. Only a small group would suffice to keep him informed while planning and even that didn't stop the rumors of his return from circulating. I think this doctor he spoke of was one such person he trusted and possibly the first person he revealed himself to as he would have needed someone to treat his wounds from the fall.”

“That certainly makes sense,” Edward replied with a thoughtful nod.

After a few moments deep in thought, Basil’s ears suddenly pricked up. “Dawson, you’re a doctor. Who would have access to such hallucinogenic drugs?”

“Most certainly not a normal civilian,” Dawson answered stroking his mustache thoughtfully. “Even a private physician such as myself could administer narcotics or sedatives as treatment. But I would venture that since this is Ratigan we're talking about, it’s more likely that he would obtain such a drug through much more illegal means. And he would have needed someone with the expertise of such powerful hallucinogenic ingredients in his employ to create such a potent drug as that. Of course, such medications would be kept under lock and key, but he could have easily had someone steal them from a hospital, an apothecary…”

“An asylum?” Basil ventured.

Dawson nodded, but his eyebrows knitted together in confusion. “That too, but it would be much easier to raid an empty apothecary at night than an asylum or hospital with orderlies working around the clock. Why do you mention an asylum specifically?”

“Because… I think I could have been in one.”

The three mice looked at Basil in shock. “You think Ratigan held you captive in an asylum?” Grayson asked.

Basil held a hand to his chin thoughtfully as he tried to recall the memories. “I saw very little of my surroundings. I was locked inside a dark, musty cellar-like room for most of my stay. But the first time I had the hallucinations, I was moved to a larger room in the middle of the night where I saw lightning flashing through a very high window because I was lying on my back on a table.”

“Couldn’t you have just been inside the cellar of an old, abandoned house?” Edward suggested.

“That was my first suspicion.” There was a pause as Basil struggled to remember more, but he finally shook his head in frustration. “I’m not certain the place was an asylum, but I’d say it’s entirely possible. But then again, it could be as you suggest, your highness, simply an abandoned empty house.”

Another frightening thought entered Basil’s mind as he recalled very short snippets of the conversation between this mysterious shadow and the criminal mastermind. “Whatever the case, we must find this person as soon as possible. Not only because of their involvement with Ratigan but because of this drug in their possession. I don’t know exactly what they were planning, but I do recall a mention of converting it into an aerosol form which would enable the drug to be dispensed to a large group of people rather than individually.”

The other three looked worried about the implications of that. “If it had such a strong influence over a mind like yours, Mr. Basil,” Edward remarked with a worried expression, “imagine the chaos that would ensue if it were given to a crowd of people at an event such as last night’s coronation ceremony.”

Basil nodded solemnly. “That is why it is so important to find this doctor and put an end to whatever scheme he and the professor were planning.”

“You think that he would continue the experiments without Ratigan’s orders?” Dawson asked curiously.

“I believe so. They seemed very eager to perfect the formula, although it must not be complete yet as Ratigan would have leaped at the opportunity to use such a weapon upon the crowd last night. It will be difficult to complete the process without Ratigan’s financial aid, but I’m sure they’ve been compensated enough for their services to continue the experiment for some time. As for what they could possibly be planning or what motive they have for finishing what the professor started, I’m at a loss. I need more data. We must find out what they’re planning before it comes to fruition.”

“Well, we can’t just go barging into every insane asylum in London demanding an investigation,” Grayson huffed.

“I wonder if anyone arrested last night would tell where they held you captive or give up any information about this mysterious doctor,” Edward mused aloud.

“It’s a start at least," Grayson shrugged, wincing at the small pain from the gunshot wound in his shoulder. "I’ll add that to the inquiries tomorrow. But first, it’s home to bed. The past few days have been far too long.”

Basil’s ears folded as his eyes fell on the inspector’s wounded shoulder. “I’m sorry you got shot.”

Grayson glanced down at his arm in the sling and chuckled. “Meh, it could’ve been worse. Margaret will be worried sick when she sees it. Wish me luck, fellows,” he said tipping his hat while heading for the door.

“Oh, one more thing, inspector,” Basil called, suddenly remembering something. “Could I have a copy of the Yard's file on Erik Jaeger? He mentioned a family and… well, I’d like to ensure that they at least get the closure of giving him a proper burial.”

“Right, I’ll see what I can do,” Grayson nodded. He paused awkwardly at the door and cleared his throat. “Ahem, well… I’m glad this ended in you making it out alive if not the worse for wear. Get well soon, detective.”

“Same to you, inspector. And thank you for your assistance. Without it, I would doubtless be done for.”

Smiling sheepishly, Grayson tipped his hat again in response before taking his leave. “Are my ears deceiving me, or are you and Grayson actually getting along nicely?” Dawson asked in mock surprise.

“Don’t get used to it,” Basil laughed softly. “Soon as I’m sufficiently healed, the game will once again be afoot. Surely he’ll still consult with me and bring work to Baker Street over the next few days so I don’t die of boredom.”

“Weeks is more like it, Basil,” Dawson reprimanded with a frown.

“Weeks?! But-”

“No buts. We’ve had this argument too often, but this time I’m putting my foot down. You came too close to death to risk more harm by not allowing yourself to heal properly first.”

Prince Edward smiled amused at the sight of the great detective’s sulking expression. “Don’t worry, Mr. Basil. I’m sure you’ll be back to your old self in no time, especially with a wonderful doctor such as Major Dawson by your side.” Dawson was positively beaming with pride, earning a little chuckle from Basil. “Now, I must take care of a few more things and check in on grandmother,” Edward continued. “I wish you both good luck in your new endeavors in finding this mysterious doctor. If you require anything at all, I would be glad to offer assistance in any way I can.”

“Thank you, your highness,” Basil said, inclining his head in a small bow. Once he and Dawson were once again alone, Basil leaned his head back against the pillow and groaned. “Blast, if only I could remember everything.”

“Perhaps it will come back to you in time,” Dawson replied hopefully. “While you rest, I suppose I’ll be making some inquiries for you about this little investigation of our own soon.”

Basil smirked. “Oh, how well you know me, doctor.”

“I ought to after rooming together for three years,” Dawson chuckled. He stifled a yawn and lifted his arms up a stretch. “Well, there’s plenty of asylums in London to choose from. Where do we start?”

The detective leaned up and rested his chin atop his fingers steepled together, the wheels of that brilliant mind of his already turning as the prospect of a new case sent thrills of excitement through him despite the small pains he still felt from his ordeal with Ratigan. “We start… with our friend at Ravenwood.”

THE END


End file.
